Eye of the Storm
by Marikosan-7
Summary: Ororo Munroe is enjoying a happy life with her husband, the X-Man known as Wolverine. But someone from her past in Cairo has come to find her and has unwittingly brought trouble with them.FINISHED
1. ChapterOne

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
Rating: pg13 (For now.)  
  
Pairing: Ororo/Logan.  
  
Authors Note: This fic is set around six years after the original film and it disregards the events of the second for the simple fact that I'd plotted it before I saw the sequel. So I guess you could say it's an AU movieverse.  
  
~ = Translated from Arabic  
  
= Translated from Italian.  
  
September 27, some years ago, Cairo, Egypt.  
  
The dark streets of this ancient city were practically deserted save for the odd beggar curled up in a doorway or mangy stray looking for scraps in the gutters. In the early hours of the morning the usually teaming, vibrant and noisy city was eerily quiet and even the slightest sound became mammoth as it bounced around the dusty streets.  
  
From a dingy ally way emerged a hooded figure, carrying what appeared to be a bungle of rags. The figure peered one way down the road and then the other before venturing out onto the main street.  
  
Once out in the open they moved quickly, their long, concealing black robe trailing on the sandy floor, creating a small cloud of dust in its wake. The figure moved fast in the direction of a large sandstone building that sat at the bottom of the sloping road.  
  
Once at its steps, the figure paused, turning their head up slightly to observe the huge building fully. Then looking down at the rags in their arms they shifted the bundle, causing a tiny whimper to emanate from them.  
  
"Shush, shush!" A feminine voice encouraged as she brought her hand up to push back a piece of tattered, blue cloth to reveal the face of a tiny child.  
  
The baby could not have been more than a few hours old, it's skin was still wrinkled and discoloured from the birth and dried blood clots still clung to the fine layer of pure white hair that covered it's scalp.  
  
The girl began to rock the child gently, swaying from side to side as the baby's cries became more urgent.  
  
~ "Please don't!" ~ the girl implored, her voice becoming thick with emotion, trying to hold back tears. ~ "Please be quiet, please!" ~  
  
The girl held the baby closer to her chest with one arm as she grasped a handful of her dark robe in her right hand, lifting the hem from the floor and trotted quickly up the steps.  
  
Once at the top she was stood before an impossibly large, wooden panelled door, like something fit for a fortress.  
  
As she looked up at it she shuddered, painful memories hitting her hard. She swallowed audibly, pushing down the lump that was forming in her throat and with it all other emotions. She knew she had to be strong for the child's sake, she had to do this.  
  
Looking down at the shivering little life she held in her arms, she couldn't stop one or two tears from falling. They landed on the baby's face that was now contorted with silent cries.  
  
Bringing the child up to her face the girl closed her eyes and planted a soft kiss on its creased forehead. After a long moment she finally withdrew her lips but keeping her mouth near the child's face, she whispered, ~ "I am sorry." ~  
  
Bending down, she placed the child carefully on the floor, just in front of the small access door that was set into the larger one.  
  
Swiftly, she stood back up and reached for a long, thick rope that hung at the right side of the door. Grabbing it with both hands, the girl pulled down with all her strength, setting off a thunderously loud bell.  
  
The noise echoed out into the night sky, causing nesting birds to flee, in a flurry of squawking and flapping, from their rooftop sanctuaries.  
  
As soon as she'd set off the bell the girl glanced quickly at her child one last time before rushing back down the steps. As she reached the bottom she chanced one more look back before running off into the darkness of a nearby ally way.  
  
Once there, satisfied that she was out of sight, she gripped at the weathered corner of the ally's wall, letting her head poke out just enough to see the large doors.  
  
With a horrendous creaking, the smaller door began to open. The girl sighed with relief at the swiftness of their reactions as an old woman, dressed in a black and white habit emerged from the door.  
  
The nun cast a searching look around the immediate area before peering down at the bundle that lay at her feet.  
  
"Oh my child!" She said as she picked up the bundle with one arm, briefly making the sign of the cross over the babe, before cradling it firmly in both arms.  
  
The hiding girl could just hear the nun mutter one or two short Latin prayers as she stepped back through the door. Closing it firmly behind her, the loud clunk of a sliding bolt could be heard, then----nothing. Absolute silence returned to the night air.  
  
The girls dark brown eyes shimmered as she read the name that was engraved in gold across a large, stone beam just underneath its roof.  
  
ST. CATHERINE'S ORPHONAGE OF CAIRO.  
  
Tearing her gaze away from the words she pulled her attention once more to the door through which her child had been taken  
  
~ "Goodbye my little one." ~ She whispered, then she turned on her heal at ran off into the inky blackness, never looking back again.  
  
* * *  
Present day, Westchester, New York.  
Ororo Munroe was leant against a tree that was on the hill overlooking the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children.  
  
With a leather-bound copy of Tolstoy's 'Anna Karenina' in one hand and a chilled bottle of mineral water in the other, she was enjoying a rare afternoon off.  
  
The day was sunny and just warm enough as to not be uncomfortable. There was a fresh breeze running through the air, that had absolutely nothing to do with the X-Men's resident weather witch, that made the day near perfect.  
  
Ororo cast her eye over the mansion and surrounding grounds and smiled contentedly. This really was the first true home she'd ever had in her turbulent life.  
  
She'd been at the mansion ever since fleeing from Africa at the age of sixteen and happening to pick the pocket of a certain shade wearing young man in New York City. Ever since that fateful meeting with Scott Summers on a bitterly cold February morning she'd always had some degree of happiness in her life.  
  
Ororo had found a father in Professor Xavier, a brother and sister in Scott and Jean. Even sons and daughters in the many students that had passed through the hallways and classrooms of the Xavier Institute over the years.  
  
But no matter how much all of these filled her life there had always been something---- missing.  
  
Until he'd shown up, almost six years ago now, she'd never been able to quite put her finger on what it was. It took them a while to realise it but after four years of blindness, Ororo Munroe and the lose cannon known as 'the Wolverine' had finally gotten their act together.  
  
In fact, they'd recently celebrated their first wedding anniversary, with a weekend in Paris. Not exactly Logan's style, he had to be coaxed into the idea by Marie, but he'd done it for the woman he loved.  
  
Ororo set her book down at her side and thought about how pleasant the break hand been. Who would have thought Logan had it in him to be so----so romantic!  
  
She chuckled softly as she leaned forwards, bringing both her arms up above her head, clasping her hands together and stretching. She gave a little yawn, surprising herself, maybe she was more tired than she'd thought.  
  
Gathering up her things, Ororo stood up, brushing a few stray blades of grass from her skirt as she did so.  
  
There was a slight rustle in the bushes behind her, not particularly loud, but just audible enough. She was about to turn around to investigate when the sound came again, ad this time she gave a knowing smile.  
  
"You're losing your touch my dear." She said playfully with her back still turned.  
  
Just then the rustling became more pronounced as Logan emerged from the foliage, spitting out a couple of small leaves that had somehow worked their way into his mouth. He walked over to his wife, pulling one or two twigs from his disarrayed hair and favouring her with a rare smile.  
  
Planting a kiss on the back of her head, he wrapped his strong arms around her waist. Pulling her in tighter to him as he rested his chin on her shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I am." He laughed before kissing her again on the cheek.  
  
Ororo brought her slender hand up, brushing it tenderly over his stubbled chin, then running her fingers through his lamb-chops and into his hair.  
  
"Come on, lets go and get some lunch." She patted her hand at the back of his head a couple of times affectionately and tried to move forwards. But he wouldn't release her, pulling her back towards him.  
  
"Hey, I've got all the sustenance I need right here darlin'." He said seductively against her neck, kissing and nipping at the soft skin there.  
  
Ororo laughed warmly in response, letting her head fall backwards against his shoulder. Then she turned her face to the side, meeting his as he lifted it from her neck. He moved in, tasting her lips with feather-light kisses until she drew him in closer with her hand that had found its way back into his hair.  
  
Slowly breaking away, their faces still mere centimetres apart Ororo gazed into her husbands hazel eyes. This close she could see clearly the flecks of green that dotted them. It made her think of all the other things she had seen in them over the years, first as a team mate, then as a lover and eventually his wife.  
  
Coldness, emptiness, ferociousness, anger----but also passion, compassion, joy----love. That's what she saw there now and it made her smile.  
  
"Come on." She repeated, moving away from him and reaching down to take his hand in hers.  
  
Together they strolled back down towards the mansion, talking about nothing in particular, laughing softly at private jokes and in no hurry at all to be in the company of others.  
  
* * *  
"Bobby, if ah've told you once, ah've told you a thousand times!" Marie slammed the magazine she was holding down onto the kitchen table. "There ain't nothin' goin' on between me and that Cajun guy, O. K?!"  
  
Bobby said nothing for a moment, he just looked over at his girlfriend from his position sat at the opposite end of the table.  
  
"I know what you've told me Rouge, but when I saw the two of you talkin' in the garden it sure didn't look like nothing to me."  
  
"Well fine Bobby, have it your way. If you're gonna be a little kid about this----" Marie stopped abruptly, hers and Bobby's heads snapping to the doorway as Ororo and Logan entered the kitchen.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey, what's going on in here? Ororo asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Logan did nothing more than snort in an amused manner as he moved past his wife, opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. Ever since he'd joined the team on a permanent basis he'd made but one stipulation in condition to him remaining there. The fridge must always be stocked with beer!  
  
Marie and Bobby both looked slightly embarrassed as Ororo looked from one to the other, waiting for one of them to say something.  
  
"It's---it's nothin' Ms. Munroe. Just a little misunderstanding." Bobby finally said, not taking his gaze from Marie the whole time.  
  
Marie brought her head up, nervously brushing a lock of white hair from her eyes with a gloved hand. She nodded at Ororo before verbally agreeing. " Yeah Ms. Munroe it's nothin'. Like Bobby said----a misunderstandin'."  
  
Ororo looked once more at each one in turn, then smiled suspiciously. She clearly didn't believe a word but she was prepared to humour the pair.  
  
"Alright then." Logan suddenly interjected, then took a lengthy swig of his beer. Once he'd finished he brought the back of his hand to his mouth and wiped it across. Ororo rolled her eyes, shaking her head playfully at her spouse's characteristically uncouth manners. " Now if you two've finished yer lovers spat of whatever it was, me an' 'Ro would like to eat in peace. If you don't mind?"  
  
Bobby stood swiftly from his chair as Marie rounded the table to stand beside him.  
  
"Yeah sure Logan, Ms. Munroe. We'll get out of your way." Bobby said quickly as he replaced his chair back under the pine table.  
  
"Logan!" Ororo chastised as she looked over at her husband. Turning back to face the departing couple she said, almost apologetically, "Don't mind him, you can stay if you wish."  
  
Marie gave a short shake of her head, saying, "No really, it's O.K Ms. Munroe. We were leavin' anyways." Then she began to push lightly at Bobby's back, encouraging him towards the door.  
  
They were half way out when Ororo suddenly called, "And by the way," the pair stopped, poking their heads back into the kitchen. "Don't call me Ms. Munroe. It's Ororo, remember, you're both X-Men now." She smiled warmly at them and they returned the sentiment fondly.  
  
"O. K Ms--- ah mean Ororo." With that they disappeared from the room. They'd not even gotten halfway down the hall though before they resumed their bickering.  
  
All Ororo and Logan could do was laugh as he reopened the fridge, examining the contents intently. She sat in the chair that Bobby had just vacated.  
  
Young love, would it ever get boring to witness it's pitfalls and mishaps?!  
  
"So what do you fancy darlin'?" Logan inquired, his voice muffled as he spoke into the fridge.  
  
"Oh I don't know, salad maybe?" She leant back in her chair, idly running her long fingers through her loose hair.  
  
In the distance she heard the faint sound of the doorbell chiming. For a second she thought about going to answer it but then she thought no, someone else could take care of it for a change. After all this was her free time.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, Logan emerged from the refrigerator, his arms loaded with various foodstuffs. Trotting over to the counter he dropped the booty down and began to sort through what was for her and what was for him. It soon became apparent, due to the discrepancy of the size of each pile, which food was intended for who!  
  
As Logan set about preparing their meal, Ororo gazed absently out of the window, watching several of her students playing with a frizzbe.  
  
It really did make what they did here seem worthwhile, to see societies 'outcasts' being able to enjoy their lives. It was days like this that kept her, indeed all of them going.  
  
She was suddenly distracted from the scenes outside by muffled voices coming from down the hallway, apparently the main entrance. She could make out Scott as one of the voices but couldn't quite place the other. But she was broken from her train of thought when Logan asked, "Dressing?"  
  
"What?" She asked regaining her bearings.  
  
"Dressing?" He repeated, holding up to sorts for her to choose from.  
  
"Oh, um yes thanks. The lemon please."  
  
"Right you are." Logan replaced the unwanted bottle back in the cupboard above his head and unscrewed the cap from the other one.  
  
Taking her concentration back to the voices in the hall she realised they'd stopped. But she could hear the sound of dulled footfall on the carpet, coming in their direction.  
  
Scott appeared at the doorway almost instantly, a hint of worry seemed to be set on his usually neutral features and made Ororo feel an odd concern. What on earth could be the matter?  
  
Scott glanced over at Logan, who still had his back turned, concentrating on the task at hand. Then he looked down at Ororo. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated slightly.  
  
Now she really was worried. "What is it Scott?"  
  
The tone of his wife's voice made Logan stop what he was doing and pay attention, his eyes immediately finding Scott at the door.  
  
"There's," Scott began tentatively. "There's someone here who says they need to see you."  
  
"Who?" Ororo asked, utterly perplexed. She shot a confused look at Logan behind her and then gave Scott the same expression.  
  
"Urr---I think you'd better just come and meet them." He stepped away from the doorway, as if expecting her to follow.  
  
Casting another glance at Logan, Ororo got up from her chair and proceeded to leave the kitchen.  
  
"Alright then." She said gravely.  
  
"You want me to come with you?" Logan offered. His face had darkened considerably and he sounded cautious.  
  
Ororo, now stood next to Scott, shook her head saying, "No, no you finish lunch. I shouldn't be long."  
  
Then she set off with Scott to meet her unexpected visitor.  
  
-TBC-  
  
Please review, let me know if you enjoyed and would like to read more. It's a pg13 at the moment but that may be subject to change later on. I'll have to see where it goes. 


	2. ChapterTwo

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
Thank-you to my reviewers, I'm glad you liked the beginning. Now for chapter two.  
As Ororo and Scott made their way down the hall she couldn't help but ask him again.  
  
"Who is it Scott? You're worrying me now!" She gave a short and decidedly nervous laugh.  
  
"She's in the Rec room." Was all he said as he continued to stride at almost break-neck speed. Ororo was struggling to keep up with him.  
  
Eventually they came to the Rec room door. Once outside Scott, sounding uncharacteristically nervous, turned to Ororo and said, "Well, I think I'll leave you to it."  
  
"But----" She started, but Scott was already retreating away as quickly as he'd ushered her down to the room. Ororo watched him go, sighing and shaking her head with confused irritation.  
  
Turning her attention back to the door she placed her hand on the elaborately decorated brass handle, pushing open the mahogany door, she stepped hesitantly inside.  
  
*  
  
She scanned the room quickly, at first it seemed that there was no one there. But then she caught sight of the crown of someone's head, just visible at the top of a high-backed chair by the window.  
  
"Uh, hello?" Ororo said tentatively, tipping her head to try and see the person.  
  
Just then the girl shifted forwards in the chair and poked her head around its side.  
  
She was a pretty girl, no older than fifteen. Her face was heart-shaped and still carried a little puppy fat about the cheeks and chin. Her eyes were almond shaped and big, their colour a raw umber hue. Her smooth skin wasn't especially dark, more of a deep honey tone. But what made it stand out and what made Ororo's breath catch in her throat was her long, brilliant white hair.  
  
Staring directly at Ororo's dumbstruck form, she stood from the chair, tucking her somewhat lank, straight hair behind her ears.  
  
Her attire was a rather mismatched and shabby affair. Shin-length black leggings with a small hole beneath the left knee, a dirty, slightly frayed red T-shirt could be seen underneath a similarly marked camel coloured duffle coat. The said coat had several of its buttons missing and the right pocket was hanging off at one corner. On her feet were, what would once have been a sturdy pair of black Doc Martins but were now practically worn bare.  
  
"I ----", the girl began, running her fingers over the hair that was already firmly secured behind her ear once more. "I do not know what to say." Her accent was heavy.  
  
Ororo began to shake her head, just barely, from side to side. Still she could not utter a word. Her whole body felt as if it were made of lead.  
  
"I had always----always heard rumours, around Cairo of----of a Goddess who could command the winds." She said quietly.  
  
The girl perched back down on the arm of the chair she had just arisen from. She gazed down at her hands that were swamped by the tattered sleeves of her coat, fiddling with their frayed edges as she continued.  
  
"A Goddess of dark skin, but also of pale hair." As she said this she ran the extended index finger of her right hand down her own white locks.  
  
Ororo finally summoned the courage and strength to move, taking one or two steps in the girl's direction. But she was brought to a halt as she spoke once more.  
  
"Of course, the nuns, they forbade such talk. Talk of pagan witchery, but I always, in my heart, hoped." The girl stopped, biting her bottom lip as her eyes began to shimmer, but she held on. "I always hoped the rumours where true."  
  
Two tears spilled down each of her softly rounded cheeks.  
  
Ororo resumed her walk over to the girl and stood before her. She was still looking down but Ororo brought her hand to the girls face, laying the tips of her fingers underneath her chin and placing her thumb on the girl's cheek. She gently coaxed the girls face upwards, making her meet her eyes.  
  
She blinked, releasing a fresh stream of tears as she gazed up at Ororo, whose own brown orbs were welling up.  
  
"How?" Ororo whispered, letting her thumb brush lightly over the girl's cheek, pushing away the teardrops.  
  
She managed a small smile before replying, "Mutants----they make the news in Cairo nowadays to you know." She smiled again before saying, "Especially when they are X-Men."  
  
Suddenly a pained expression consumed her face and she began to sob in earnest. She closed her eyes as soft, jerking moans escaped her mouth.  
  
Ororo brought both her hands up to cradle the girl's head, slipping her fingers into the girls tangled hair. This encouraged her to bury her face in Ororo's midriff, stifling her cries.  
  
Holding the girl tightly to her Ororo said, her own voice cracking as she fought to keep control, ~ "My little one, shush, shush,----don't cry."~  
  
But she broke too, as she began to stroke the girl's hair. She brought her arms up and wrapped them around Ororo's waist, clutching desperately at the back of her cardigan.  
  
For a long while, the two women simply held each other, trembling with the release of years of sorrow and regret.  
  
* * *  
  
"Hey, Cyke." Logan jogged down the hall to catch up to Scott Summers as he was headed for the Professor Xavier's office. "Who was it?"  
  
Scott stopped, just before the door, his head fell back a little and he sighed. Turning to face Logan he said, "Look, this is none of my business Logan. Talk with 'Ro."  
  
He turned to enter the office but was stopped when Logan slapped one powerful hand on his shoulder and span him back round to face him.  
  
"HEY! Just tell me who it goddamn is now!" He wasn't in the mood to be messed about. It unnerved him when strangers came to the mansion unannounced, especially strangers who wanted to see his wife.  
  
Scott pushed Logan's hand from his shoulder indignantly. "Don't you ever lay a hand on me again." He said warningly.  
  
He moved away from Logan and back towards the door. Just before he entered the office he turned his head back to face Logan. "It was a girl, a young girl. That's all I know."  
  
Logan said nothing in reply as he headed off quickly, in the direction of the Rec room.  
  
* * *  
  
Just as he got to outside the door he was going to walk straight in but then thought better of it. The room seemed quite, too quiet for Logan's liking.  
  
He pressed his ear up against the door, it was a terribly snoopy thing to do but he didn't care. Still nothing, except the rhythm of soft breathing, two distinctly separate rhythms. It was then he became aware of the smell, the smell of a young girl. Quite fragrant in the way that only girls can be but it was over layered with the more offensive odours of dirt, must, damp and sweat.  
  
Just then he heard light rustling and padded footfall coming towards the door. He backed away from it immediately and it was just as well because at that moment Ororo pulled the door open. If he'd still been against it he'd have pitched face first into the room.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ororo's initial look of surprise had turned to irritation. She knew exactly what he was doing, she only hoped he hadn't been doing it for to long.  
  
"I ,urr---I just wanted to see if you were O.K." He said, slightly sheepishly.  
  
"Oh really?" She folded her arms over her chest as she stared up at her husband. "And that involves listening in on my private conversations does it?"  
  
He was about to plead his case when he noticed Ororo's slightly reddened and puffy eyes, then he smelt the salt of tears. His forehead furrowed as he ran one hand down Ororo's arm.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong darlin'?" He asked softly.  
  
Ororo shook her head as she cleared her throat, "It's nothing."  
  
Logan didn't need to be physic to tell that that was bullshit. "The hell it's nothin'. 'Ro tell me."  
  
"I----"She began before she moved out of the room, pulling the doors closed behind her. But before she managed to close them all the way Logan got a glimpse of two booted feet hanging off the side of the sofa. "I will tell you latter, right now I have to go do something."  
  
Ororo pulled a bunch of keys from her cardigan pocket and searched through them for the key to the Rec room. All members of staff at the institute had the keys to every room in the place.  
  
Logan looked on confused as she proceeded to lock the door. "Why are you doin' that?"  
  
"I will explain everything later my love." She rubbed her fingers across her creased brow. "Just please, for the moment make sure no one goes in there."  
  
"'Ro, for gods sakes will you just tell me what the hell is wrong?!" He shouted gruffly, he'd been trying to keep his cool but Ororo's odd behaviour was getting to him. He hated secrecy, the one thing he'd always been able to count on with Ororo was her honesty.  
  
Ororo offered him a brief smile to try and calm him but it was far to forced to bring him any sort of comfort.  
  
"Please Logan, just let me talk with the Professor, then I'll speak with you." She moved close to him, tiptoeing to plant a light kiss on his cheek. "I promise." She said close to his ear.  
  
With that she headed off to Xavier's office, leaving Logan to watch after her. He was annoyed yes, but his concern for his wife far out-weighted that.  
  
He turned back to the door and wondered who the hell could have rattled Ororo like that, surely if it was someone important from her past, she'd have told him about her, right?  
  
"God, I need another beer." He said quietly to himself and went back to the kitchen.  
  
-TBC-  
  
What do you think? I know it's a bit short but R and R please! 


	3. ChapterThree

Disclaimer: same as before!  
  
Thank-you for the enthusiastic reviews, glad you like the direction I'm taking the story in. Hope you enjoy this segment just as much. Now for chapter three..  
  
"Professor!" Ororo exclaimed as she burst through the office door. "Oh, Scott----I'm sorry, I didn't mean to----" The two men looked up at Ororo in surprise at the unexpected intrusion. Even more shocked to see that she was on the verge of tears.  
  
"It's O.K Ororo dear, please come in and sit." Charles manoeuvred himself around his desk and next to the chair he wished her to take.  
  
"I'll go now Professor. I'm sure you've got lots to talk about." As Scott exited the room, he laid his hand on Ororo's shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. "You know, whatever the problem is----I'm here for you. Jean too."  
  
"Thank-you Scott." She gave him a small nod in acknowledgement of his kind offer. Then Scott left the two to talk, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
As soon as the doors catch clicked shut Ororo moved quickly over to the leather, padded chair. Sitting down heavily she suddenly burst into tears, burying her head in her hands.  
  
"Oh Charles!" She sobbed.  
  
Xavier moved his chair closer and ran his hand down her long, soft hair. "It's O. K my child. It's O.K."  
  
Just the sound of his voice helped to calm her greatly. She lifted her head from her hands and promptly threw her arms around Xavier's neck Tears cascaded down her face as she kneeled at the side of the Professor's wheelchair.  
  
The action elicited a gasp of shock from Charles, he wasn't used to such unexpected behaviour from his normally calm and reserved Windrider. A quick glance out of the window at the gradually increasing winds told him that the weather wasn't either.  
  
"She's really here!" Ororo cried through joyous laughter, but her face was grimaced through what seemed to be unbearable pain. "Charles, she's really here! She's come back to me!"  
  
Still with her arms around the Professor Ororo brought her hand up to cover her face as she continued to sob and outside it started to rain.  
  
"I'm happy for you my dear, I truly am." He returned her embrace lovingly. At the back of his mind he'd always knew that there was a possibility that this day would come and he knew that Ororo would need to lean on him more than anyone else. Maybe she'd even need him more than she needed Logan. After all he was the only one who truly knew the pain that she had gone through and at this moment he couldn't have felt more like her father.  
  
After a minute or so Ororo lifted her head, she'd stopped crying now. The rain had stopped too but the wind remained persistent, blowing in dark clouds to shade the once bright sun.  
  
Wiping her tears away with the sleeves of her cardigan, she sat back down in the chair and folded her hands in her lap. In fact she appeared almost embarrassed by her untoward display.  
  
"What do I tell her Charles?-----How can I even begin to explain?" Her voice was slightly gravelly from the tears, so she cleared her throat.  
  
Xavier reached over to Ororo and gently pried her hands apart, then he took them in his, giving them a tender squeeze.  
  
"You will tell her what she needs to know and what you feel comfortable with her knowing. At the end of the day my dear, it's up to you."  
  
She wiped again at her face before saying, "But how can I?" Her eyes were searching as she looked at the Professor, as if she expected him to provide her with the answer.  
  
"You will find a way." He reassured her. "You have a strength in you that you are unaware of. You will find a way."  
  
She smiled at him and nodded though her eyes still held a definite sadness. She didn't appear too convinced by the Professor's faith in her.  
  
"Where is she now?" He asked as he released her hands and sat up in his chair.  
  
"I left her in the Rec room. She had cried herself to sleep. I think she was exhausted."  
  
"Right, well I'll get Rouge or Bobby to make up one of the guest rooms and we can move her up there."  
  
Ororo nodded in agreement as she took the jug of water that Xavier kept on his large desk and poured herself a glass. Her throat had suddenly become dry and she was finding it hard to swallow. The tumbler clattered against her teeth as she tried to take a sip, a small uncontrollable tremor affecting her right hand. So she was forced to clasp the glass with both hands to steady it.  
  
"By the way my dear, what did they name her?" Xavier took her hand in his once more as he asked her.  
  
An almost wistful smile came to her lips and a look of tenderness washed the sadness for her eyes. Then she said quietly, "Catherine."  
  
* * *  
  
Ororo perched herself on the edge of the bed that Catherine was now laid in.  
  
After leaving Xavier's office she had returned to the Rec room to collect her. Waking her from the deep sleep that she had fallen into had not been easy. She probably hadn't slept in days by the look of her and who knows how she hadn't gotten there.  
  
When they'd arrived at the guest room they'd entered to find Marie and Bobby just finishing tucking in the fresh sheets.  
  
They'd asked no questions, to Ororo's internal relief, leaving as soon as the task Xavier had asked of them was complete.  
  
After a lengthy shower and a change of clothes, the others being taken directly to the bin, Ororo had offered Catherine some food. She'd excepted eagerly, sleep obviously wasn't the only thing she'd been deprived of recently.  
  
And that's where Ororo had just returned from, but as she came into the room she noticed that Catherine was now sprawled out on the bed, once again dead to the world.  
  
Setting down the tray of food on the dresser top that sat just to the left of the door. She crept as quietly as she could over to the bed. Slowly prying the sheets from under the girl's body, she pulled them over her and then sat beside her sleeping form.  
  
She gazed down at her now, smoothing back the still damp hair that was plastered to her forehead. Evidently her hair was as difficult to dry as her own.  
  
Ororo couldn't believe she was really here. She'd let that part of herself go along time ago, she'd had to, just to survive. But here she was now, in a peaceful slumber right next to her.  
  
Ororo was lost in the moment but then she had a startling thought,---- Logan. What was she going to tell him?  
  
Her brow furrowed as she considered her options, running one hand absently through her hair. Would he understand? Understand why she'd never told him about such a crucial part of her past? Could she even bear for him to know?  
  
"I need some fresh air." She whispered to herself as she stood from the bed. But as she made her way round to the door she tripped on something protruding from underneath it. Only just about managing to catch herself from falling by grabbing the edge of the bed she looked down to discover what the object was.  
  
It was an opaque, blue plastic bag that Catherine must have brought with her, probably hidden under her coat.  
  
Ororo bent down to pick it up but as she did the handle ripped, spilling its contents onto the floor with a noisy clatter. Looking up quickly, she was relieved to see the noise hadn't disturbed her sleep.  
  
Kneeling on the floor Ororo began to pick up the items one by one. There was a small dark brown teddy bear that had just the one black beady eye and was practically thread bare. She smiled as she turned it over in her hands, absently examining it, then placing it back into the bag. Next was a black covered, pocket size Bible, flicking through it quickly she noted that it was written in Italian.  
  
Various currencies in crumpled notes and battered coins had scattered everywhere so she had to run her hands along the floor in order to scoop them up. There was money from Egypt, Morocco, Spain, France and bizarrely, or so Ororo thought, Serbia and Croatia too. But she didn't have time to ponder, she was sure she'd learn everything later.  
  
The only thing left on the floor now was a punch of faded and dog-eared papers that were tied together with a length of rough string. Retrieving them from the ground she was about to place them with the other possessions but something stopped her.  
  
Fingering the string hesitantly, she looked up at Catherine once more before giving into curiosity and pulling open the knot carefully.  
  
The papers mainly consisted of newspaper cuttings, mentions of mutants, the X-Men in particular. There was even a blurred picture in one of the articles that had appeared in most newspapers all over the world about two years ago. It was a picture of Storm that had been snapped by a stunned bystander during a mission in Belgium. It wasn't very clear at all, you couldn't really make out any great detail, just a black blur with a shock of white following from it.  
  
Despite the fact that the photo wasn't exactly conclusive it had obviously been enough to convince Catherine that she should come looking.  
  
The last thing in the pile was a photograph. It had turned a sepia colour through age and had been torn in two at some point, sticky tape held it together now. In the picture were rows and rows of children ranging from around three to thirteen, fourteen. They were all dressed in the same colours, grey pinafores and white shirts for the girls, grey shorts and white shirts for the boys. On each side of the group were several dour- looking nuns but despite this most of the children appeared genuinely happy. But among all the jet black haired children in identical uniforms one stood out, one little girl with a scruffy shoulder length crop of bright white hair.  
  
Ororo closed her eyes as she pressed the photo to her heart, for a second she thought about holding onto it. But she knew she couldn't, taking one last glance at it she gathered all the papers back together again and tied them with the string.  
  
Just as she was about to put them back in the bag there was a soft but firm knock at the door.  
  
"Ororo?" It was Logan.  
  
She quickly pushed the bag back under the bed and started for the door, calling as loud as she dared, "O. K, I'm coming."  
  
Logan took that as 'don't come in', so he waited for her to come out the room. After a moment or two she did just that, closing the door quietly behind her but not looking it this time.  
  
Immediately Ororo went to Logan, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his chest.  
  
"Hey, you O. K?" He asked, returning the embrace.  
  
She nodded against his chest before pulling her head back to look up at him, "I'm fine my love. I think it's time we had a talk."  
  
She pulled away from him, somewhat reluctantly, and started down the corridor, Logan following close behind.  
  
* * *  
  
Ororo had led Logan up to their attic bedroom to talk, away from prying eyes and eager ears. The whole mansion was probably buzzing with gossip already, which was always the case when somebody new arrived.  
  
Ororo sat in her reading chair by the balcony door, motioning at the chair opposite but Logan shook his head. He preferred to stand, he always did when he was agitated, it made him restless. Whatever 'Ro was about to tell him, he felt certain he wasn't going to like it.  
  
She said nothing for a moment, she just watched, slightly bemused as Logan began to pace, slowly back and forth.  
  
"Logan please, will you stop that." She said with a small laugh.  
  
"Sorry darlin'." He eventually took the chair.  
  
She sighed softly before beginning, "This isn't easy for me Logan. Her turning up out of the blue like this has dragged all sorts of----feelings and memories----memories I'd long locked away."  
  
Logan was about to interrupt but Ororo raised her hand to halt him. "Please, just let me finish. Let me explain as much as I can. But you must understand that I can't tell you absolutely everything just yet. It would be unfair on Catherine if I told you before I told her."  
  
"Catherine." Logan repeated the name quietly to himself, as if in conformation.  
  
"I don't want you to be angry with me for never having told you all this." Those words instantly made Logan's features darken, his face becoming much more stern than usual. "But you must understand that I had my reasons."  
  
Ororo turned her head to the window and gazed out at the sky that had finally become blue once more.  
  
"You already know about my parents----how I lost them in the attack on our village." She brought one suddenly trembling hand up to rest on her mouth briefly. It was so very hard for her to talk about this. Not just the loss of her parents, but the other memories that it brought with it. Being buried alive for days on end------surrounded by the decaying corpses of her tribes folk----.  
  
She shut her eyes to try, in vain, to block the horrifying images that flooded her mind. Taking a deep breath she tried to continue.  
  
"It wasn't just my parents I lost that day.-----I lost so much more-----." Her voice more or less trailed off as she opened her eyes and turned to face Logan. His expression hadn't changed much, save for the vague look of confusion that was now creeping in.  
  
"Is she who I think she is?" He asked, trying to stay as neutral as possible, but it was hard. His gut tensed as he prepared to hear an answer he'd been dreading.  
  
"Please Logan, just listen." She implored softly. "I lost my sister that day also---- or so I thought."  
  
Logan shook his head a little, "What?" It hadn't been as bad as the answer he'd been expecting, but still----a sister! Why had she never told him?  
  
"The girl----Catherine, she's your sister?" He stood swiftly from the chair and took a few steps back into the main space of the room. He scratched at the back of his head absently as he tried to take all this in.  
  
"No." Ororo started quietly.  
  
Logan's gaze shot back down to his wife who was still looking up at him, seemingly back to being calm as ever.  
  
"Then what?" He said, a little harsher than he'd intended to.  
  
Holding her gaze with his she replied softly, with a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "Catherine is my niece."  
  
-TBC-  
  
The plot thickens!!! RnR please! 


	4. ChapterFour

Disclaimer: don't own them, just playin'.  
  
Thank-you reviewers once again. Now for chapter four.  
  
Logan had said little to Ororo on hearing her revelation. After a lengthy silence he'd mumbled something about needing to go clear his head and didn't come back until late that evening.  
  
When he'd gathered himself together enough to go back to their room he'd discovered a very empty bed. So he'd followed the lingering stream of her scent and wasn't surprised to find her asleep, at the side of Catherine's bed, slumped in a chair.  
  
He'd considered waking her but then thought better of it, leaving the room as silently as he'd entered.  
  
He went back up to their room hoping a good nights sleep would do what the walk didn't.  
  
* * *  
  
Logan let his head loll to the side idly on the pillow. The garish red of the digital clock on the bedside table came slowly into focus, its brightness causing havoc with his sensitive eyes. Peering at the offending object through a squint, he could just about make out the time at six thirty.  
  
"Great." He grumbled. It was five minutes later than the last time he'd looked. And ten minutes since the time before that. He'd been doing this all night----not a single wink of sleep.  
  
Logan lent up lazily on his elbows, the white bed sheet falling down around his midriff. Suddenly his attention snapped to the door, he could have sworn he'd heard movement. And sure enough there it was, the sound of soft footfall coming carefully up the attic stairwell.  
  
Then her scent drifted to him, so comforting as always. After all the sense of smell is the strongest trigger of memory and all her scent ever brought him were good ones. Also a great feeling of peace----serenity even. For a second he was lost in it, forgetting the events of the previous day.  
  
"Good morning." Ororo smiled sweetly at him as she came through the door, still dressed in yesterdays clothes. Her hair was dishevelled from sleeping in the chair and her eyelids seemed heavy. But even so, she still carried a preternatural beauty about her.  
  
Logan said nothing as he watched her come towards him and sit at his side on the bed. She ran her hand over his bare abdomen, letting it rest there as she lent in and kissed his lips softly.  
  
Still he maintained his silence, nor did he return the kiss, he simply watched her actions in the hazy, bluish grey morning light.  
  
Eventually Logan shifted position, pushing himself into a more upright, resting his back on the stylish wrought iron headboard.  
  
Ororo let her hand fall from his body as he moved. Running her fingertips lightly along the edge of the sheet at his waist, she asked, "Sleep well?"  
  
Logan regarded her for a little while longer, with a gaze that was becoming a tad too cold for her liking before he replied to the question with one of his own.  
  
"Why'd you never tell me 'Ro?" To Ororo's relief he didn't sound particularly angry, more curious.  
  
She sighed, turning her attention down to her bare foot as she traced her toes along the join of two floorboards, considering her response.  
  
"You know how traumatised I was by everything that happened-----how I've only ever been able to tell you the barest of details-----because I have blocked out most of what happened."  
  
Ororo stopped as she climbed on to the bed, enveloping his torso with her long, slender arms. She rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes as she relished the sound and the feel of his steady heartbeat on the side of her face. He was so warm, being so close to him made her feel safe. It made her feel she could cope with this, if he was by her side.  
  
He brought his arms up around her slowly. Clasping his hands together at her shoulder, he let his cheek rest on the top of her head.  
  
"I know it was hard but----but that still doesn't explain why you never told me about all this." His tone became increasingly agitated as he spoke. "I mean-----there's a whole part of you that I don't know about.---- It's thrown me darlin'."  
  
Ororo turned her face up to see him, making Logan pull his head back. Looking directly into his eyes, she said, "I thought she was dead Logan. I thought Catherine was dead." The words came out in barely a whisper.  
  
That seemed to stop him in his tracks, he looked startled for a second. But then he gained his wits and pulled her tighter to him.  
  
Planting a soft kiss on her forehead he then asked, "What about your sister? What happened to her?"  
  
Ororo laid her head back down on his chest and screwed her eyes shut tight. She pursed her lips together to stop the tortured sound that she just knew was going to escape her mouth if she tried to answer.  
  
Logan felt her entire body go rigid, making him instantly regret asking the question. She didn't need to reply, her body's reaction and the sudden change in her scent told him the answer.  
  
"God 'Ro----I'm sorry."  
  
Ororo turned her face fully into Logan's body as she gripped him tighter, but there were no tears. Her voice was muffled against his skin as she said, "I found her in Cairo. She died in my arms Logan,-----she died in my arms."  
  
Logan closed his eyes as his brow furrowed, those words stung him----they really did. He brought his hand up into her hair, cradling her head as he began to slowly rock her from side to side.  
  
"I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry."  
  
* * *  
  
Marie struggled to balance the breakfast tray between her raised knee and left-hand as she knocked on the guest room door.  
  
She waited patiently for a response as she lowered her leg and gripped the tray safely with both hands again.  
  
There was a rustling of sheets and one or two groans of bedsprings before the rooms occupant called, with a sleep induced croaky voice, "Come in."  
  
Marie managed to nudge the door handle down with her elbow, before pushing the door open with her body.  
  
"Ah've brought you some breakfast."  
  
"Thank-you." She said as she climbed out of bed.  
  
"Ah'll just put it on here for you." She set the tray down on the desk opposite the bed as Catherine went into the bathroom.  
  
Marie was about to leave, but she was too curious. So she sat on the bed and waited for the girl to come out of the shower.  
  
After around five minutes she heard the squeaking of metal knobs and the sound of rushing water ceased.  
  
"So, what's yaw name?" Marie called in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
At that moment she came back into the room wearing a thick creamy coloured bathrobe and wrapping her hair in a large white towel. Arranging it on her head like a turban.  
  
"Catherine."  
  
"Oh, right. Ah'm Marie." Marie's eyes wondered around the room as she tried to think of something to talk to her about.  
  
Catherine sat at the desk, tucking into the food hastily. Marie looked on in mild shock, she couldn't fit the stuff into her mouth fast enough!  
  
Averting her eyes, she asked, "Err, so you know Ms. Mun---, ah mean, Ororo?"  
  
Catherine nodded her head in reply as she continued to shovel more food into her mouth. Swallowing down a rather large mouthful she said, " Well I do not know her properly yet, but we are related." Picking up her glass she took several fast gulps of her orange juice.  
  
"Related!" Despite the obvious physical similarities, now that she thought about it, she was still genuinely surprised. "I thought Ororo's family wuz-- - ya know---" She shrugged her shoulders as her voice trailed off.  
  
Catherine instantly stopped eating, turning her head slowly to look at Marie. Her face held an odd expression, one that Marie couldn't quite put her finger on. But she did get the impression that she'd hit a raw nerve.  
  
Catherine said nothing and turned back to her breakfast, but she didn't continue with it. She started to push the scrambled eggs around her plate with her fork absently.  
  
#Think, think, think stupid!# Marie tried desperately to think of a way to steer the conversation in a different direction.  
  
"Where-where's that accent from then?" She stuttered.  
  
"Cairo." She replied quietly, setting her fork down on her plate.  
  
"Right. Ororo lived there for a while didn't she? I don't really no all that much about her past." Marie gave a small laugh, almost to herself. "Ya'll find that most people round here don't often talk about their pasts."  
  
"Really? Why is that?" She turned the swivel chair around so she could face Marie.  
  
"Ya'll do know what kinda place this is-----don't ya?" She asked hesitantly.  
  
"It is a haven, yes? For mutants?"  
  
Marie smiled, "Yep, that's right." She tugged up the edges of her long, green gloves before adding, "If ya don't mind me askin', are you a mutant?"  
  
Catherine shrugged her shoulders, "I don't think so.----At least, nothing has changed in me yet."  
  
Marie nodded, tucking her white fringe behind her ears as she stood from the bed, "Anyways, ah'll leave ya alone now. Let you finish yaw breakfast."  
  
"Thank-you, for the food I mean."  
  
"Ya'll welcome Catherine." As Marie departed the room she picked up the tray that still sat on the dresser from the day before.  
  
As soon as the door closed Catherine suddenly brought her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her fingers across her knitted brow. Her head was throbbing, a migraine the size of China was brewing in there, she just knew it.  
  
Getting up from the chair, she almost stumbled as she made her way back over to the bed.  
  
Maybe she needed just a little more rest.  
  
* * *  
  
At that moment, in Xavier's office----  
  
"O. K Jean, here are this weeks science class lesson plans. Thank-you again for covering for me at such short notice." Professor Xavier handed Dr. Jean Grey a brown, card folder containing the plans across the desk.  
  
"Thanks Charles, it really isn't a bother." She said as she placed the folder in her brief case that held all her work papers pertaining to her teaching position at the institute.  
  
"Oh, that reminds me Professor, I was going to ask you if---ARGH!" Jean's hands shot up to grasp at her head as she doubled over in obvious agony.  
  
"JEAN!" The Professor was about to pull out from beneath his desk when the same pain that had befallen Dr. Grey hit him also. It was so sharp and so sudden that it made him lurch to the side, sending him tumbling to the floor.  
  
Then, just as quickly as it came, it vanished.  
  
Gaining her whereabouts swiftly, Jean scrambled around the desk to Xavier, who was struggling to push himself upright.  
  
"Are you O. K Charles?" She asked frantically as she helped him into a sitting position.  
  
Leaning back on his overturned wheelchair, Xavier tried to order his thoughts after such an invasive shock.  
  
His breathing was rather laboured as he tried to reassure Jean, "I'm fine Jean, it's alright."  
  
"What was that? I felt as if someone had rammed a white hot poker into my mind!"  
  
"I'm not sure Jean.----I'll have to go to Cerebro to try and find out."  
  
Charles was playing dumb but he had his suspicions about what it was that had just 'attacked' them. If that trace of consciousness was whom he thought it was then they were in for trouble. More precisely Ororo was.  
  
Internally, he hoped to god that he was mistaken.  
  
* * *  
  
It was now eleven thirty and Ororo Munroe had taken it upon herself to go and rouse her niece.  
  
She had gone to see her after Marie had told her she'd already taken her some breakfast at nine o'clock. But when she'd gotten there she was dismayed to find she was asleep once more.  
  
Ororo knocked on the door first but didn't wait for an answer before she entered.  
  
Catherine was stood by the window, looking down onto the front lawn, from which the soft laughter and playful shouting of children emanated.  
  
She certainly looked much better than she did when she'd arrived, now dressed in a pair of simple pale jeans and a black polo necked top. Her thick hair was pulled back form her face, fastened loosely at the nape of her neck with a slim blue clip.  
  
"Everybody seems very happy here." She said, not taking her attention away from the scenes below.  
  
Ororo smiled, "Yes, I think they are. Here they are excepted for who they are, no fear, no hate." She went over to the bed that she noted had been immaculately remade. Sitting at its foot she called, "Catherine."  
  
Slowly she pulled her gaze away from the window to see Ororo patting the space next to her, beckoning her to come over. She took one last glance out of the window before she did just that.  
  
Ororo watched her for a moment, sitting at her side. She was fiddling with the cuffs of her top, just like she had the day before with her coat.  
  
"Can I ask you a question?" Catherine said quickly with a nervous glance in Ororo's direction.  
  
She ran her hand affectionately over the girl's hair, "Of course you can."  
  
Her eyebrows knitted as if she were deliberating over whether or not to go ahead with her request. But clearing her throat as if to ready herself she then asked, "Are you----- my mother?"  
  
As soon as she'd spoken the words she looked up at Ororo, her dark eyes wide with hope, fear----innocence.  
  
Ororo smiled at Catherine but her eyes betrayed the gesture and for a second all she could do was return the girls gaze.  
  
Eventually she began to shake her head gently, her loose hair failing about her shoulders. "I'm sorry Catherine, but no,----- I'm not your mother." She spoke with genuine regret.  
  
Catherine couldn't stop her disappointment from showing, she'd let herself believe it for so long. That this Goddess, this mutant that lived in America was her mother, Ororo's answer almost crushed what was left of her spirit.  
  
Ororo sensed this, she wrapped her arm around her and pulled her close.  
  
Softly she said, "I may not be your mother Catherine but you were right to come and find me."  
  
"Oh?" Catherine turned hr face back up to Ororo, the spark of hope flashing in her eyes once more.  
  
"Yes, I'm your aunt. Your mother was my elder sister."  
  
Catherine stood up from the bed, wrenching herself from Ororo's embrace. She paced aimlessly for a minute, not sure how to feel.  
  
"Then----then where is she? Why did she leave me at that place?" She was pleading for answers now. Answers to the questions that had plagued her her entire life.  
  
Ororo held her hand out to the girl, "Come back here and sit, please. What I'm about to tell you----isn't pleasant."  
  
-TBC-  
  
Next up, what happened to 'Ro's sister?R'n'R, please! 


	5. ChapterFive

Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
Thank-you reviewers, you're an inspiration as ever!  
  
~ = Translated from Arabic  
  
+ = Translated from Swahili  
  
September 20th, 1988, Cairo.  
  
~ "These three wallets and this."~ Ororo dug deep into her pocket and produced a gleaming Rolex watch, procured from an unsuspecting tourist just an hour earlier.  
  
The street merchant snatched the item from the young girls hand, holding it up to the light and inspecting it closely.  
  
~ "O. K. thief, you have a deal."~ Putting the watch into the cloth bag that was slung around his body he then took the wallets. He made a quick note of the contents of each before putting them with the watch.  
  
~ " Now please, tell me where the white haired girl is."~ She insisted as she pulled the hood of her robe tighter about her own head, making sure it concealed her hair.  
  
She'd been bartering with this stubborn little man for nearly half an hour. Finally, and at much cost of an afternoons work, he'd agreed to tell her the whereabouts of whom she could only presume was her sister. The sister she'd spent the last ten years of her life believing was dead.  
  
~ "There was a girl of that description in this area---about a week ago."~ The merchant paused, gazing out into the street as he tried to recall more specific details. After a moment he gave her the directions to a disused building situated in one of the most run down areas of the city.  
  
Soon she was on her way through the hoards of people milling around in the hot dusty streets---hoping that she was about to see her older sister--- Karima Munroe.  
  
Ororo had been living, or more over surviving as a petty thief on these hostile streets for over two years now. Begging, scrounging, steeling--- doing whatever she could to get by.  
  
With no real family to speak of save for the rag tag gang of street urchins she sometimes ran with, at times she felt there was no hope for much better in her future. But a chance meeting, an overheard conversation in a dark and somewhat seedy tavern had given her hope. Hope that there may be something better---that her sister that she had long given up for dead was in fact here, in the same city as her.  
  
*  
  
Dusk had begun to settle, turning the blue skies a luminous orange. At this time of the day Cairo positively glowed and could, for a time, be mistaken for the most beautiful place on earth.  
  
Ororo had finally arrived at the building the merchant had told her about. It was a dilapidated, boarded up shop. She inspected its façade carefully. At first it appeared that there was no way of entering, but then she caught sight of the loose board on one of the windows.  
  
Slicing it back slowly, Ororo peered into the shop, but she could see nothing but a cavernous black space.  
  
She pulled back from the window, letting the board fall back down. She had no real idea as to what the hell was in there---but she had to chance it.  
  
She took off her robe to reveal what could only be described as glorified sackcloth underneath. Tying her dark robe about her waist securely she went back to the window and pulled the board far back, letting it catch on a nail in the window frame. Gripping at the windows splintered edges she swung her leg up onto the sill, getting a firm footing with her sandaled foot. With little difficulty she hoisted her light body up and through the opening.  
  
She landed lightly on the other side in a crouching position, immediately attempting to scan the area once more. But still she could see nothing as she gradually rose to her feet. The debris of broken glass, brick-dust and goodness knows what crunched under her feet as she moved.  
  
Taking two steps forwards into the dark tentatively she stopped abruptly. She was sure there was some one else in the room with her. She could just feel it---eyes watching her from the dark.  
  
She was about to take another step when suddenly some one wrapped their arm around her throat from behind. Her attacker pulled her into their body and that's when she felt the point of something sharp press into her back.  
  
Instantly Ororo's hands shot up to grasp at the arm that was slung tight around her neck. She would have shouted out had the arm not been pressing so hard against her windpipe.  
  
~ "What business have you here girl."~ A male croaky voice snarled into her ear.  
  
Ororo tried desperately to reply but his hold on her neck was getting tighter and tighter and she could barely breath, never mind speak. She started to thrash about in his grip, trying to break free  
  
~ "Please! Let me go!"~ She managed to say in a strangled hiss as she arched her back away from whatever it was he was pressing into her.  
  
The man held on for a second or two longer before slowly releasing his hold. As soon as the arm had gone Ororo stumbled forwards grasping at her throat as she gasped for air. Spinning around to face her assailant, all she could see was the gleaming point of a blade, glinting in the one thin stream of light that had made its way through a gap in one of the boards.  
  
Ororo held her hands up in front of her in a defensive 'stop' gesture.  
  
~ "I don't want any trouble---I'm looking for someone. A girl I was told was living here."~ She tried to disguise the tremor in her voice but to no avail.  
  
~ "There are many girls here but this is no place for you. GO NOW!"~ The man waved the knife in the direction of the window.  
  
Bringing her hands down Ororo had gotten over the initial shock of the attack and was now feeling a bit more defiant. She wasn't going to be turned away now, not by anyone.  
  
~ "I will not leave until I find her. She is called Karima Munroe and she is unmistakable to the eye."~  
  
The man gave a non-descript grunt as he moved closer to Ororo, replacing the knife back into its housing on his belt. Her eyes were becoming used to the gloom now and she could make out his shabby and grizzled features a little.  
  
~ " You mean the girl with the pale hair---hair like the moon?"~ He pointed skywards as he said it.  
  
~ "Yes. Is she here?"~  
  
~ "Maybe---that depends."~ The man said slyly.  
  
Ororo new what he was implying and she'd had just about enough of dealing with hustlers today. Now it was her turn to take the more aggressive initiative. Her foot flew upwards, catching the man in the jaw. The momentum of the action brought her close to him, giving her the opportunity to catch his right arm. Twisting it behind his back as she span him around to get behind him.  
  
The man cried out as he bent his upper body down towards the floor to alleviate the pain. Ororo only twisted the man's arm harder though as she grabbed a handful of his hair in her other hand and yanked his head up. Moving in closer so that her mouth was by his ear she hissed, ~ "I have nothing left to give you old man and I am in no mood to bargain."~  
  
Ororo abruptly released her grip, sending the man sprawling to the filthy floor. She detested having to do that but life on the streets had taught her that kindness and fair play were not hard currency out there. To show weakness was to be killed.  
  
~ "Now take me to her."~ She demanded.  
  
The shaking man scrambled from the floor, eyeing Ororo carefully the whole time. Although he couldn't have known that deep down she was still a little afraid of him, she appeared stern.  
  
~ "Alright you little witch! I'll take you to her."~ He snarled as he reached into his pocket on his grubby smock. Pulling out a book of matches he then walked off into the darkness at the back of the large space.  
  
Ororo could hear him scratching around for something then there was a flare of light and she could see him lighting something. An oil lamp? No, it was an open flamed torch, a paraffin soaked rag on a stick by the smell of it.  
  
The torch instantly lit the room, throwing light on the more or less empty space. Four central pillars were the only solid structure left in the place that was littered with the odd empty turned over cardboard box and shattered glass from the windows. Fallen plaster was strewn all over the dusty floor.  
  
The man walked to the far left hand corner of the room setting the torch down he knelt on the floor and grabbed what looked like a large iron hoop. Pulling at it a section of the floor opened up, it was a trap door.  
  
Ororo moved in closer to see a set of steps leading down underneath the building. She felt herself growing cold and for a moment she didn't think she could go down there. The mere thought of being underground terrified her but she steeled herself. Finding Karima was more important than giving sway to her personal fears---so she took a deep breath and pushed them to the back of her mind.  
  
*  
  
The man led her quickly down the tunnel of the cellar. He hadn't said a word to her and she was relieved for that. The last thing she wanted was to give him an inkling that she was scared almost witless.  
  
They passed door after door, all of them shut but rays of warm light spilled out from the gaps at their bottom. The soft mumbling of many voices could be heard from behind their iron mass. It seemed that there was an entire community living down here, street people taking refuge wherever they could find it.  
  
Finally they reached the very end of the tunnel and the man banged on the last door three times. He started to walk away but just a few steps from Ororo he turned back to face her. Looking her up and down slowly an expression of disgust came to his face. Staring at her hair he growled, ~ "Freak!"~ Then he spat on the floor, the result of the vile action landing mere millimetres from her feet.  
  
Ororo held her head up, flashing him a sardonic grin. She was used to such comments by now, she no longer paid them any mind.  
  
The man shuffled off back down the tunnel, muttering bitterly to himself. Leaving Ororo alone to face her moment of truth.  
  
*  
  
The room, that was tantamount to a prison cell, was very dimly lit. A small lamp hung on a rusty chain from the leaking ceiling. Damp ran down the brick walls and the smell in the place was appalling. All manner of pungent and offensive odours competing with each other. It was so sharp that Ororo had to cover her nose at first, the stench bringing tears to her eyes.  
  
+ "Or-Ororo?---is that you?+ A weak voice drifted from a darkened corner of the room and there was a shifting noise.  
  
Ororo took her hand from over her mouth as she squinted her eyes to try and make out the shape huddled in the corner.  
  
+ "Karima?"+ She whispered.  
  
The figure shifted again, moving into the pool of light that collected in the centre of the room. It was she---it was Karima.  
  
She was enveloped in a dirty pale blue blanket, pulled up over her head. She clasped it together at her chest with trembling hands. She looked ghastly, her face drawn and gaunt, her once warm, rich mocha eyes were dull and dark now---sunken into her sockets.  
  
+ "Is it really you---my sister? My Ororo?"+ She reached one trembling and horribly thin arm out from beneath the blanket. The movement caused it to slip off her right shoulder, exposing her heavily pregnant belly.  
  
Ororo would have gasped in shock had Karima not suddenly pitched forwards. To weak to stand anymore, she fell into her young sisters arms.  
  
The pair collapsed to the floor, Ororo landing in a kneeling position, her sister's head falling into her lap.  
  
+ "What happened to you?!+ Ororo asked frantically. She searched her sister's once pretty face and realised that there was little hope of getting a straight answer out of her. Karima's eyes were rolling around haphazardly, unable to focus. One touch of her skin told Ororo she was burning up, fever obviously raging through her body.  
  
It was then that she started to shiver, small beads of sweat starting on her forehead.  
  
+ "Karima, I must get you out of here. You are ill---you need help."+  
  
* * *  
  
The sun had set now, the nights inky black had claimed the yellow orcha streets of Cairo. From the top of a partly empty, run down warehouse three men sat and watched. All dressed in identical black fatigues, with 'ninjaesque' facial garments, they had sat, and waited and watched.  
  
It had taken some time for the younger girl to pull the older woman out through the window that was the only exit from the old shop that sat opposite. Her state of health and obvious other condition making the task especially difficult.  
  
Eventually they were out and heading slowly up the dusty street---the younger of the two obviously struggling to keep her sister upright as they shuffled.  
  
~ "Let us go Shadows."~ The man at the window said quietly, never taking his eyes off the women. ~ "I doubt they will get far."~  
  
One of the other men stepped closer to the window, peering through the gap in the haphazardly arranged wooden boards.  
  
~ "I agree leader---but do you think that it would be wise perhaps to wait?"~ He turned to face his superior.  
  
~ "Why wait? We have them."~  
  
At that point the third man at the back chimed in.  
  
~ "No, I agree. It would be easier to retrieve the Masters property once it were born."~ He gave the leader of the group a short bow after voicing his humble opinion, a sign of respect and perhaps servitude. He was but a boy really and hadn't been with the organisation for long.  
  
The leader stared at the boy, a cold glint in his eyes that were framed top and bottom in black cloth. For a split second the young recruit feared he had down a major wrong, even feared for a moment that his time was near as the leader continued to eye him with a look of steel. He had heard rumours that members had been killed for far less than questioning their field leaders decisions.  
  
The boy's superior walked determinedly over to him, bringing his gloved hand up and practically slapping it around the back of his neck and gripping. He closed his eyes tight for a moment, small beads of sweat starting on his forehead underneath his headdress. He didn't know whether the gesture was one of hostility or 'manly' approval.  
  
The leader brought the boys face close to his until they were almost eyeball-to-eyeball, staring him out. When the, by now shaking, boy averted his gaze the older man smiled beneath his 'veil' and said, ~"Maybe you are right boy."~  
  
The boy released a loud shaking breath, the action making his leader snicker briefly, his point had been made. He may have conceded that both his 'soldiers' were correct but he'd stamped his authority on the organizations latest recruit.  
  
~ "Now let's move---we can't afford to lose them."~  
  
With that the three hastily made their way from their lookout post to follow the women.  
  
-TBC-  
  
Reviews really work for me, so please, please do! 


	6. ChapterSix

Disclaimer: As far as I know, I didn't become a millionaire over night. I DON'T OWN THEM!  
  
Thank-you to the reviewers and just for you, this chapter is much longer as was your request! Hope you enjoy!  
  
September, 26th, early evening.  
  
Days had gone by and still Karima was no better---even worse she was refusing to see anyone about it. For some reason she was too terrified.  
  
Ororo had taken her gravely ill sister to one of her hideouts that where dotted about the city. They weren't exactly the Ritz but at least they were marginally better than the place she'd found Karima in.  
  
For the last few days Ororo had been concentrating on keeping her sister's fluids up in the near stifling heat of the late Cairo summer and trying to make her eat something. She had next to no real body fat and hardly any muscle strength. To top it all off it seemed her time to give birth couldn't be far off either.  
  
During the process of actually keeping her sister alive the last thing Ororo wanted to do was push her to tell her what had happened to her. But she really, truly did need to know how she had come to be here---in this state.  
  
Karima had managed to give her a few details but for the most part she was nonsensical, the fever was making her increasingly delirious.  
  
The information Ororo had gleaned was that Karima had been held captive, perhaps for years, she couldn't tell. How she had escaped was yet another mystery. She kept on mentioning shadows, dark shadows but couldn't---or wouldn't elaborate. The most illuminating detail she managed to come up with was the reason for the attack on their small Kenyan village. The attack that had left almost the entire tribe---including their parents--- dead.  
  
* * *  
  
Prying her eyes open slowly, Karima stirred from her restless sleep. The lighting in the small room was slight but she could make out her sister standing, with her back turned, at the far side of the room.  
  
Lifting her head from the 'bed' a fraction she whispered, + "He---he came--- "+ She abruptly burst into a coughing fit, thick, milky coloured mucus bursting from her mouth and dripping down her chin.  
  
Ororo rushed to her side from the small sink that she'd been rinsing some clothing in. She knelt down, wiping the mucus away with the bottom of her 'dress', where Karima was lay on a mattress of straw and covered with several layers of linen that Ororo had 'liberated' from a market stall a few days prior.  
  
+ "What is it Karima?"+  
  
Karima opened her eyes again, her head falling to the side in Ororo's direction.  
  
+ "He came for me---Ororo, it was me."+ Her voice was very weak and her mouth dry. The effort to speak was clearly causing her much pain.  
  
+ "Who Karima? Who is 'he'? Who did this to you?"+ Ororo prompted, struggling to keep herself from raising her voice in desperation. But after several days of constant frustration, to at last maybe get some concrete information out of her sister made her lose herself slightly. It wasn't Karima's fault that she couldn't tell her much, she knew that. But she couldn't help but get her hopes up either.  
  
Ororo reached down to Karima's face, gently caressing her shallow cheek as she repeated calmly, + "Who did this to you?"+  
  
Karima's eyes started to wonder aimlessly, like they had been all week, lost in the delirium of fever. But, with what seemed like a concerted effort on her part, she focused her bloodshot, hooded gaze on Ororo. Her dry and cracked lips trembled as she parted them gradually, + "He attacked our people---he came for me, Ororo---he killed our people to get to me."+  
  
Ororo was about to inquire further but Karima suddenly cried out, as loud as she could in her greatly weakened state. Her head lurched back against the bed as she began to writhe in agony.  
  
The time had come.  
  
* * *  
  
Hour's later.  
  
~ "Leader,"~ the boy came running to his comrades who were in the ally way. He struggled to catch his breath as he continued. ~ "It has happened, the child is born."~  
  
The leader walked to the edge of the ally, looking out at the small window that glowed with dim yellow light from the basement of the building opposite.  
  
Still looking straight ahead he said to his soldiers, ~ "Then our time has come---let us make our move."~  
  
* * *  
  
A thoroughly exhausted Karima moved weakly on the blood-covered mattress--- to out of it to really feel pain anymore.  
  
Ororo lay the newborn down on the 'bed' of blankets and rags near to, but not to close to the iron wood burning stove in the corner of the room. She had to keep the baby warm now that the nighttime temperature had plummeted. Then she rushed back to her sister's side.  
  
+ "Urrr---Oro---Ororo---"+  
  
+ "Shush, don't try to speak, just rest."+ Ororo smoothed Karima's sweat soaked hair back as she bade her to sleep.  
  
+ "But, my child---he will come for my child!"+ She was rapidly becoming distressed and that couldn't be good for her.  
  
Ororo shook her head, giving her sister a comforting smile, + "Your daughter is fine Karima, no one is going to take her."+  
  
+ "But---but---"+ Her voice more-or-less faded out as before Ororo's very eyes she became weaker and weaker.  
  
Worry instantly consumed Ororo's face as she reached down and took Karima's head in her hands. Moving behind her, she laid her sister's head in her lap.  
  
+ "Karima!, Karima! Please talk to me!"+ It was then she looked down and noticed the blood, so much blood. She was still bleeding from the birth and it showed no signs of stopping.  
  
+ "Oh Goddess!"+ Ororo's mind fell into a blind panic for a moment---she didn't know what to do. But the faint sound of Karima's voice brought her back from the brink.  
  
+ "Put her somewhere safe,"+ Her head rolled back and she locked eyes with Ororo. For just a moment they were clear and bright---she suddenly became the Karima that she had loved all those years ago. + "Don't let him have her."+  
  
Ororo could do nothing but watch as her sister's eyelids began to flutter and her breathing became quick, shallow pants. She could say nothing as she saw Karima's very life slipping away in her arms.  
  
One last, lingering, hissing breath---and Karima Munroe was with the Goddess.  
  
Ororo stared down at her sister's lifeless face---it was strange how the cold pallor of death took effect so quickly.  
  
After what seemed an eternity she blinked, several streams of hot tears trailing their way down her face. She just couldn't take it in that so soon after finding her---Karima was gone.  
  
Ororo was so lost in her shock that she didn't notice the door creeping open or the three dark figures rushing down into the basement room---until it was to late.  
  
~ "Get the child!"~  
  
The youngest of the three rushed in the direction of the baby but didn't quite get there. Ororo sprang from beneath her sister's lifeless body, towards the boy.  
  
~ "NO!"~ She cried as she threw herself into him, sending them both crashing into the dirt-brick wall. His head connected with it, instantly knocking him unconscious.  
  
Ororo was merely stunned, gaining her senses quickly enough to move out of the way of a flying kick that was aimed at her head. The man's foot created a sizeable dent in the wall, he'd leapt with so much force.  
  
~ "Grab her!"~ The leader shouted to his remaining soldier.  
  
Ororo tried to run for the child but was sent sprawling to the ground as the man that had almost removed her head from her shoulders swooped his foot along the floor. The action literally took her legs from beneath her, and then she felt his weight on top of her back. He grabbed both her arms, pulling them behind her and holding them fast at the wrists.  
  
~ "NO!"~ She screamed again as she riddled and squirmed to get herself free, watching---helpless as the other man advanced on the child.  
  
It was then that Ororo felt it, burning and coursing through her veins. Her blood felt like fire and every nerve in her body screamed with the unscratchable itch of natural electricity. She soon realised she couldn't stop it even if she'd wanted to as her eyes began to white over in a static haze.  
  
The leader suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he observed the physical change in the girl. Small sparks of static electricity began to jump and pulse about her body as she fixed her petrifying blank gaze on him.  
  
~ "She---she was the one all along."~ He gasped to himself.  
  
They would be the last words he would ever utter as the skies outside erupted. A bolt of forked lightening crashed through the small window at the top of the wall behind the leader. Its twinned offshoots ripping through the two men at the same time.  
  
The one at Ororo's back was thrown clear from her, his dead carcass ablaze. But the one that had gone for the baby had been even less fortunate than that in the manner of his demise. The bolt had entered the back of his head- --literally making it explode.  
  
*  
  
Ororo lay still, taking in harsh, laboured breaths as she stared at the result of her actions. It took a while to sink in---for the first time she'd used her gifts to kill.  
  
In her eyes she had just become---a murderess.  
  
She let her head sink back down to the dirty floor, closing her eyes to block out the sight of the bodies to her right and in font of her. The thunder outside became nothing more than a distant rumble.  
  
Ororo's outstretched fingers scrapped across the sandy floor as they slowly scrunched into fists of their own volition. She screwed her eyes shut tighter as the smell of burnt flesh filled her nostrils. Something like a whimper began to stutter its way from her lips as she sank further and further into a dark downward spiral. She felt as if she where losing her mind.  
  
But somewhere through the darkness she heard a small sound---the cry of a newborn. It was then that it came to her full force---the reason she had just sacrificed her innocence.  
  
Lifting her head from the ground, a large patch of light sand and dust all down one side of her face, she focused on the child. It's arms and legs flailing wildly against the background of the fire in the stove.  
  
Ororo brought her hands underneath her and pushed herself up from the ground. Crawling on her hands and knees towards the babe, she scooped it up, blankets and all. Cradling it in her arms she knelt back on her haunches as she pulled the blankets and rags over the front of the child, wrapping it securely.  
  
What was she going to do now?  
  
Ororo struggled to think straight as she held the wriggling little life in her arms, rocking it gently. Small noises, not quite cries yet, came from her tiny mouth as she rubbed her balled fists over her wrinkled face.  
  
(+ "Put her somewhere safe"+)  
  
Thinking over her sister's penultimate words to her she simultaneously thought about the men who had come for them or more over their reasons for coming. She was sure she hadn't seen the last of them---more were certain to come. But where was safe?  
  
(+ "---he will come for the child."+)  
  
After what she had just done she was fairly sure they would come for her too.  
  
Looking down at the girl-child's heart shaped face Ororo knew of only one place where she would be safe---one place even the most hardened of monsters would dare not attack.  
  
Placing the baby back on the floor momentarily she quickly grabbed her dark robe from the hook on the wall and pulled it on. Lifting the hood up to hide her face and most importantly her hair, she retrieved the child. Without another glance back at the carnage she ran up the stairs and spirited away into the night.  
  
*  
  
The boy at last dared to move, springing swiftly to his feet---he was in an utter confusion and panic. The still smoking bodies of his companions lay before him and without warning he was hunched over---wretching violently.  
  
After he had finished he leant against the wall with his hands, trying to catch his breath. Tearing the sick-stained veil from his mouth with revulsion he threw it to the ground and turned his head to once more gaze upon the dead men.  
  
What was it the leader had said before that demon in a human form had struck him down?  
  
(~ "---she was the one all along"~)  
  
He didn't quite know what that meant but he did know that he had to get back to the compound and inform his master of the night's events at once.  
  
* * *  
  
~ "You must let me through, it is of utmost importance!"~ The boy tried to push his way through the two guards that blocked the entrance to the main chamber. But they stood fast; there was no way he was getting through.  
  
~ "Where are your superiors boy?"~ The taller of the two guards asked, both men dressed in nothing more than white loin cloths, sandals and some kind of traditional ancient Egyptian head dress. The boy had been surprised at their attire at first---he'd never been this far into the complex before. Nobody else there dressed like this. But despite their rather antiquated dress both men held automatic machine guns.  
  
~ "She---they are---she---she killed them!"~ He stuttered frantically, his eyes wide with desperation.  
  
~ "What?! How?"~ These were highly trained soldiers they had sent out---how could the rookie be the only one to come back alive?  
  
~ "The lightening demon, she---"~  
  
~ "SILENCE!"~ An inhumanly deep, baritone voice bellowed from behind the guards, echoing around the chamber behind them.  
  
All three turned around as they saw their one true lord and master descending his 'throne' and heading towards them. Several female lackeys, scattered red rose petals at his feet as he walked down the exquisitely woven golden thread carpet that made a path through the centre of the chamber.  
  
As he halted about five feet away from the party he held his hand up to them. All three dropped to their knees and bowed their heads to him.  
  
~ "Speak."~  
  
The now trembling boy slowly raised his head to look at his master but the sight he saw made him instantly lower his gaze again.  
  
~ " The sister---she took the child your grace and she killed the others."~  
  
~ "How?"~  
  
~ "She---she killed them and your bride was dead too."~  
  
~ "I DID NOT ASK OF MY BRIDE, I ASKED HOW SHE KILLED THEM!"~  
  
The boy was truly petrified now, so much so in fact that a small trickle of warm urine ran down his legs and collected at his knees. Shaking with un- chartered fear he hastily replied, ~ "With lightening your grace, she killed them with lightening. And my-my-my- leader said that she was the one- --just before she struck him with her lightening."~  
  
The master said nothing as his gaze drifted from the boy, his dark eyes holding a far off look.  
  
The boy chanced a small glance up, relieved to see that his master no longer had his eyes bearing down on him. But his relief was to be short lived.  
  
~ "Find the girl."~ The tall man directed the order at the two guards either side of the boy. ~ "And as for you---you have failed me."~  
  
~ "But master, she had powers; we could not---"~  
  
~ "SILENCE!"~ He commanded for the second time that night as he took a few more steps toward the boy, but this time his lackeys did not follow. Placing a long, thin hand on the boy's head, the master gripped at his hair.  
  
By now the young soldier was in a 'blue funk', the abject fear paralysing him. It was then that he began to feel an odd tingling sensation in his head. It started to pulse and thud like an extremely bad headache---soon a sharp pain joined the other feelings. As the boy opened his mouth to scream he realised he was no longer capable of emitting any kind of sound.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, his mind was being wiped. His young mind was being banished to a state of limbo---forever to walk the dark, cold depths of the astral plain.  
  
The master began to smile as he observed the boy's eyes rolling back into his head and the foam that was collecting at the corners of his mouth.  
  
As the boy collapsed to the ground in the brief convulsions before physical death, his executioner said with thunderous authority and as a reminder to all other personnel in the room, ~ " Nobody fails the Shadow King."~ He slowly turned around in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, eyeing every occupant in turn, ~ "Ever."~  
  
As the King returned to his throne, the two guards set off to gather a larger group of soldiers to find and apprehend the girl. But as they where leaving they each grabbed an arm of the dead boy, dragging his heavy body with them for appropriate disposal.  
  
Two other guards fell into their vacated posts immediately.  
  
* * *  
  
Ororo sat with her knees hitched up, arms wrapped around them tight in a shop doorway. Her robe still covered her from head to toe, like a monk. It made sure that the occasional passing vagrant paid her no mind.  
  
All she wanted to do was go back to her sister's body, now that the child was safe. She wanted to bury her. Wanted to give her the rights that all the people of their tribe in Kenya were bestowed when their time came. It was the least she could do.  
  
Ororo knew it was a risk---but she had decided she had to go back for Karima. Maybe those people would be waiting for her there---quite frankly she was past caring. What did this life hold for her now anyway?  
  
Once again, in the space of a few hours she had lost her entire family.  
  
Getting up from the doorway, she started off down the street. In her emotional state her guard was down---again. She didn't hear the panicked whispers of ~ "That is her, the weather witch!"~ She paid absolutely no attention to the beating sound of multiple running feet. She turned around a fraction too late as a wooden club came smashing down on the back of her head---sending her into unconsciousness.  
  
* * *  
  
Ororo was aware of sound before she became aware of anything else. She realised after a moment tat she was being dragged, some one at either arm. Her legs were trailing limply behind her. She tried to lift her head and open her eyes but a blinding pain ripped through her skull and down neck.  
  
Eventually she came to a stop and someone, perhaps one of the men at her side was saying something. But she was still far too groggy to concentrate or focus on what her returning senses were picking up.  
  
~ "Lift her to her feet."~  
  
The two men hoisted Ororo up, supporting her by the underarms. Her heavy head fell back and her feet were still not flat on the floor. Opening her brown eyes with a few flutters of her eyelids, an ornately decorated ceiling came into view. It was high, at least forty foot or so above them and covered in gold white and blue symbols. Where those Hieroglyphics too?-- -she couldn't tell, her eyes were still slightly blurry.  
  
~ " Ororo."~  
  
She lifted her head forwards with a great effort and the man with the deep voice who had just addressed her came into her line of vision. She blinked a couple of times to focus. He was a large man, dressed in a blue silk robe with what looked like a solid gold plate covering his shoulders and neck. He had an ancient headdress, its tall smooth shape accentuating his very strong Arabic features. His eyes where large, dark and piercing, underlined with a traditional line of kohl.  
  
~ " Ororo, I am the Shadow King."~  
  
#This must be him!# she thought to herself. The man who had ruined her life- --twice.  
  
~ "Yes, it is her."~ The King said to no one in particular. He got up from he gilded throne and proceeded to walk down the five small steps towards where Ororo was being held up by the guards. The girl-servants around him, that were all dressed in white, off one shoulder robes and held large, wicker fans, all stepped to the side as he descended.  
  
Ororo locked her eyes on his as he neared her, any hazy confusion or fear she'd been feeling rapidly turning into anger.  
  
~ "Yes, so beautiful---she is the one."~ He said quietly, running one bony finger down her dirty cheek. A few small rivulets of blood from the blow to her head stained it.  
  
Ororo stared at the man with utter contempt, she was about ready to spit in his face when he moved his hand over her mouth and laughed.  
  
~ "I wouldn't girl."~ He slowly removed his ring-covered hand, placing it instead around her chin. ~ "It appears I made a mistake when I took your sister---but the Prophecy was not specific. I must start again."~  
  
Releasing her chin he turned and went back to his seat. As he sat down the girls fell back to their positions around him. He looked out, past Ororo's shoulder at someone.  
  
~ "Find the child---kill it."~  
  
On those words Ororo began to scream, not in fear but in pure fury and frustration. She was thrashing about so much that even two guards were struggling to keep a grip on her.  
  
The Shadow King laughed loudly, a deep and throaty sound. ~ "There is no use in fighting girl."~ With that his dark eyes suddenly became fixed and concentrated.  
  
Ororo felt a tingling sensation at the back of her still aching head but she had no time to wonder what it was. The familiar fire of her natural electrical-conduction based bio-signature started up of its own volition. Almost like a defence-mechanism against this---thing in her head. As her eyes became a hazy mist the feeling in her head, whatever was trying to invade her mind had to stop.  
  
~ "NO! This can not be!"~ She could hear the man saying the words but she could no longer see him as a field of static temporarily fuzzed her view.  
  
The guards and servants became nervous as a wind began to swirl around the chamber, faster and faster. Again, the electricity danced about its mistress, making the panicked guards that held her let go. Once they had released her she spread her arms wide, her head falling back as she harnessed her awesome powers, bending them to her will.  
  
~ "You fools! HOLD HER!"~ The King stood up quickly as he tried again to enter Ororo's mind, but her will was strong and her power seemed to make it stronger. The natural electricity interrupting the electro-magnetic flow of her thought pattern and brainwaves. He hadn't counted on that, he'd never come across anyone who could resist his formidable powers before.  
  
The winds were becoming wilder, like a cyclone as the King's serving girls scattered, screaming in panic. The guards with their guns and spears debated frantically what to do. They couldn't kill her---but how could they defend themselves against such power.  
  
The drapes that were hung about the chamber began to rip from the walls as various plinths supporting old vases, bowls and other 'ceremonial' paraphernalia crashed to the stonework floor.  
  
~ "You killed her!"~ Ororo shouted, her young voice holding an unearthly authority as she accused him. She started up the steps towards the King, her hair whipping about her wildly.  
  
The Shadow King stood his ground, even in the face of what could only be imminent death. But he seemed unmoved by this fact, he still had a confidence about him as he faced-off with the young weather witch. Almost like he knew something she didn't.  
  
~ "Do your worst 'Ka'. Our fates will not be denied."~  
  
Ororo was confused for a second, what did he mean by 'Ka', but the thought was gone almost as soon as it had come to her. Her pure anger took over, wild and savage. On this night Ororo Munroe would do something she had never done before and hasn't done since. An act that would haunt her worst nightmares forever---she took a life through rage and above all--- vengeance.  
  
Dark, angry thunderclouds blotted out the ceiling and it began to rain. Just a few drops at first and then it became a torrential downpour. Sporadic flashes of contained lightening danced about in the clouds above, desperate for freedom.  
  
Ororo stared at the King as she struggled to contain the largest storm she had cooked up to date. She was shocked and angered even more when she noticed he was smiling at her---the son-of-a-bitch was actually smiling at her.  
  
Thoughts of her father David, her mother D' Nare, Karima rushed through her mind and then of her niece. The little girl that she possibly may never see again---that was when she let go. Ororo unleashed the storm.  
  
The room practically exploded with light sound and violent movement, as bolts of lightening crashed down like the fury of the Gods. The ceiling began to crack and crumble around them as the eight stone pillars that ran parallel down the centre of the chamber began to collapse. A sound like an earthquake started as the entire room shook, but she ignored it---her fear of being trapped by the failing debris had become negligible in the rush of her rage.  
  
The last thing Ororo would remember in the noise, chaos and confusion was the look on her family's murderers face as a bolt ripped through his heart. Then there was a tremendous thud at the top of her head---then nothing but the ignorant bliss of unconsciousness.  
  
-TBC-  
  
Hope you enjoyed, finally some action/adventure! But there will be much more to come. Please, please review!  
  
Next up: Return of the Shadow King 


	7. ChapterSeven

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
Thank-you to my reviewers, now for chapter seven...  
  
Ororo sat at the desk of her plant filled classroom alone, desperately trying to concentrate on the essay in front of her. But after reading the line, "---and it was on this day that the Japanese surrender, bringing WWII to an official close." she gave up the ghost, gathered Artie's essay with the ten others and began filing the work away. Maybe she'd try again later-- -but she very much doubted that she'd be in the right frame of mind then either. She just couldn't get the events of earlier out of her head, Catherine's reaction had been---strange.  
  
Taking a sip of her by now lukewarm coffee that Bobby had so thoughtfully brought for her, Ororo's mind wondered back to her troubled niece. After she had told her almost everything that had happened, including the fact that she had woken up in a hospital bed about three weeks after the incident, with no memory of how she had got there or who had taken her. Ororo had wanted to explain why she'd never come back for Catherine. Of course, she had tried---years into her stay at the mansion she had finally managed to relay the story to the professor and they had used Cerebro to try and locate her---but Xavier could never find a reading. Not even a residual psyche---that's why Ororo had given her up for dead. At peace perhaps with Karima and the rest of her family. With that belief she had been able to---at last---close that terrible chapter of her life and move on. A new life, a new family, a new love---a new hope. Memories of what had happened still haunted her from time to time---memories of what she did in particular. But that's when she could talk to the Professor, she could confide in him, without having to burden Logan with the problems of her past---she figured he had enough trouble coming to terms with his own. She knew now that she had probably been foolish in such a presumption but at the time it seemed preferable to dragging up the painful past for no reason. Until that reason had turned up on the doorstep.  
  
Now all she wanted to do was explain this to Catherine---explain why she'd never come for her. But after their talk she had gone off for a walk, she said she needed time to think but there was something more to it than that. Ororo got the distinct impression that she simply didn't want to be near her---or maybe she was just being paranoid. After all she had just been informed that her father was a murderous monster---but also that Ororo was responsible for his death. It was all such a damn mess, a real can of worms.  
  
Ororo closed her eyes and sighed, placing the half drunken cup of coffee back on the desk. How was she going to get Catherine to come round, to see that she did what she had to do? She didn't know. What she wouldn't give for a stiff drink now! But she didn't think Charles would be all that impressed by his senior teacher drinking in class---in the middle of the afternoon! Besides she didn't really drink, she left that pastime to her husband. Speaking of which---  
  
"Knock, knock."  
  
Ororo opened her eyes to see Logan at the doorway with what looked like another (steaming hot) mug of coffee in his hand.  
  
"Come in." She gave him her best smile but even that appeared weary.  
  
Making his way over to her, he snatched up one of the desk chairs on his way. Bringing it to the front of her desk he swivelled it round so that his arms rested on the back and set the mug down carefully in front of her.  
  
"So, how did it go? With Catherine I mean." Logan reached over the desk and took one of Ororo's hands in his.  
  
She sighed softly again and shook her head. Shrugging her shoulders slightly she said, "I'm not sure---she was very quiet."  
  
Logan nodded his head absently, "Well it was a lot to take in, she came here expecting to find her mother. She'll be O. K---you just need to give her some time." He brought the tips of her fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.  
  
"I hope so." Ororo replied quietly, all the while wondering what she had done to have such an understanding and loving husband. Logan's transformation over the years had been astonishing---it proved to her that underneath all the rough if you looked hard enough you could still find a gem.  
  
"I was kinda hoping to meet her---if that's O. K. Or do ya think I should leave it for a bit?" Logan sounded a little hesitant in his request.  
  
Ororo thought about it for a moment before replying, "Maybe this evening--- I'm sure she'd like to meet her new Uncle!"  
  
Logan gave a brief chuckle, "Uncle." He repeated quietly, he'd never had a relative before (in the context of his short memory) and a wife didn't quite count. This was a new one for him, but he liked the sound of it.  
  
Thinking back to Catherine's behaviour Ororo thought and then said aloud, "When she's got over the shock of everything, I think she'll settle in here very well." But then she frowned as a possibility she hadn't really considered came to her.  
  
"What?" Logan asked, noticing the expression immediately and giving her cheek an affectionate stroke with his free hand.  
  
"What if she decides that she doesn't want to stay here?"  
  
Logan gave her a reassuring smile before getting up from the chair and making his way around the desk to stand behind her. Placing his hands on her tense shoulders he began to massage her taught muscles, "There's no reason why she wouldn't want to stay. I mean, the kid grew up in an orphanage---you know what that's like. She's just found the only family in the world that she has---why would she leave?"  
  
#Because she probably blames me.# Ororo thought ruefully to herself, but she hadn't told Logan the whole story yet so she had to keep the reasons for her scepticism under wraps for now. Then that made her think---maybe it was time to fill him in. After all, she did promise that she'd tell him once she had told Catherine.  
  
"Logan---maybe it's time I told you."  
  
The cautious tone of her voice made him halt his hand actions for a second and when he resumed them he asked, "Tell me what? About what happened in Cairo?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
* * *  
  
Jean had been stood outside of Cerebro for going on two hours now. She'd taken a short break about half an hour ago, but until the Professor had identified whatever it was that had invaded their cerebral defences this morning, she didn't want to leave Charles alone for to long. Whatever had happened earlier it had been strong enough to penetrate even Xavier's mind-- -that meant it was serious.  
  
"Hey, what are you doing? Is the Professor using Cerebro?" Scott came down the circular, metallic corridor towards her.  
  
"No, I'm just standing here---and have been for two hours---for the good of my health." Jean retorted with sarcastic humour.  
  
Scott laughed, sidling up to his fiancée and giving her a loving kiss. Running his hand down her hair he studied her face for a moment to determine her mood---using humour as a defence? She only ever did that when she was truly worried about something.  
  
"What is it?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting above his protective shades.  
  
"Something happened this morning---the Professor and I were---I don't know-- -attacked I guess is the only way I can describe it."  
  
"What?! Why wasn't I told?"  
  
Jean rolled her eyes, "We wanted to find out what it was before we worried anyone else about it." She ran her hand down Scott's arm, "It's probably nothing---we psychics can be overly sensitive at times you know." She tried to reassure him, but it didn't help one bit.  
  
"Jean, I'm meant to be leader of this team. How the hell can I react efficiently to any situation that arises if I'm not informed immediately?" Here it was, the leadership complex coming out in him. On a bad day he might even be mistaken for a control freak---but Jean was used to it, in fact it had become one of the things that made Scott---well---Scott! She wouldn't recognise him if he didn't go all 'authority figure' on her once in a while.  
  
"Look Scott, I didn't think it was worth worrying you about until we were sure what we were dealing with, that's all." She rubbed her fingers across her forehead, the pain was still lingering, coming in short waves---but she couldn't get a lock on anything. She was still too inexperienced with her powers; even after all this time, to do that.  
  
Just at that moment there was a faint humming sound in the corridor, followed quickly by a whirling sound as Cerebro's reinforced steel door began to side open. Xavier was soon through the opening and the look on his face instantly told the pair that something was definitely seriously wrong.  
  
"What did you find Charles?" Jean asked with obvious concern as she walked over to meet him as he exited the contraption. Scott following close behind, arms folded over his chest.  
  
Xavier looked from one X-Man to the other, his face rather pale and drawn from spending so much time in Cerebro. "We need to find Ororo, immediately."  
  
Jean and the Professor locked eyes and instantly Scott knew they were having one of the telepathic rendezvous. He knew it shouldn't but it annoyed him intensely, if nothing else he always thought it rude. But he was patient, he waited for them to finish before inquiring, "So what's happening? I presume it has something to do with the girl that turned up yesterday."  
  
The Professor continued along the corridor not saying anything for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. Then he suddenly called back to them, "A meeting in the War Room---now." Turning his chair around to face the pair, who hadn't actually moved to follow him yet, he said to Jean, "Contact Bobby and Marie, I'll get hold of Ororo and Logan."  
  
"O. K." Jean prepared to follow Charles orders as the three made their way to the War Room around the corner from Cerebro.  
  
* * *  
  
Catherine came to the edge of the mansion woodland and stopped, falling down on her knees into the grass with the minimum of grace. She felt numb--- completely numb at what Ororo had just told her. But underneath that she could feel anger simmering. Anger at whom, she wasn't quite sure---the Shadow King, Ororo, herself even. She was beginning to wish she'd never come to find her. Maybe it would have been best for everyone if she'd carried on travelling---with Abdul. The sudden thought of him brought a tear to her eye and she wished for all the world that she were with him now in Europe---or wherever he was by now. Maybe he'd gone back to Cairo, where they'd set out on their adventure from.  
  
Having grown up together at St. Catherine's he was as good as a brother to her, they'd been more or less inseparable since he was first brought to the orphanage. Catherine had been just four years old when Abdul arrived, he was six, both his parents having died in the out break of Scarlet Fever that had gripped the cities slums. Just over a year ago they had decided to leave the orphanage together but Abdul hadn't known the real reason why Catherine was so eager to leave. They'd travelled around Europe, doing what they could to survive. Although it hadn't been easy---illegal travellers weren't exactly welcome in Europe in the current climate, with the almost ridiculously fever pitch hysteria over 'asylum seekers' they had to be as inconspicuous as possible. That, plus Catherine was still unsure as to whether she was a mutant or not. If she was, it certainly wouldn't have helped matters much---they constantly heard rumours on their travels that various governments were developing some kind of 'tracking device' to locate suspected mutants---whether they knew they were mutants themselves or not. But they were just rumours, unsubstantiated hearsay.  
  
Abdul had known of her fears but not the source of them---then one night, in the Left-Bank area of Paris, she had snuck off on her own. Two weeks later and here she was in America---all her hopes dashed and information about her parentage that she could have lived without knowing. What was that western saying, about being careful about what you wish for?  
  
"That is very true indeed Catherine."  
  
Catherine almost screamed as she heard the reedy yet somehow powerful voice from behind her. Turning around on the damp grass she looked up to see a tall, thin and deathly pale man emerging from the trees. Then, after the initial shock she thought about what he'd just said, had he read her mind? She knew that there were people out there---in this very school in fact--- that could do that kind of thing.  
  
"Who---who are you?" She asked haltingly, trying and failing miserably to hide her rising fear.  
  
"I'm the man who has been watching you for the last eight years of your life."  
  
Catherine could say nothing in reply, she simply stared up at him, rather perplexed as well as scared.  
  
"You were just wondering how Abdul was, were you not?" The strange man's ashen face began to twitch as he tried to crack a smile---but couldn't quite manage it. So he gave up, the creases of his face and the ones that ran down from behind the dark glasses that covered his eyes, falling down into a semblance of an almost smooth face.  
  
"How did you know?!" She snapped as she clamoured up from the ground quickly. Taking one or two steps back from him, almost subconsciously she then shouted, "Who are you? What do yo want?"  
  
He laughed, a low and dark sound---quite unnerving given his appearance--- he didn't seem capable of making such a forceful noise. But it stopped abruptly as he took a few steps forwards to make up the ground that she'd retreated.  
  
"If you ever want to see your precious Abdul again," He raised his right arm that was clad in the thick black leather of his ankle-length trench coat and placed his thin hand on Catherine's shoulder. "I suggest you make no fuss and come with me---immediately." The man leant in close to her face as he finished the sentence, his putrid breath making Catherine's nose wrinkle.  
  
She stared up at him as she wondered what to do. Run away? Tell the others at the mansion? But this strange man seemed to have powers, what if he really did have Abdul? After all, nobody here knew of him, how could this horrid little man have found out about her 'brother'---unless he had been doing what he claimed he had been? Watching her---studying her every move for the last eight years. The very thought made her panic, her mind clouded and all rational judgement went by the way side.  
  
Catherine remained mute as she let the man guide her, by his cold, bony hand on her shoulder, off into the woods that led to the out-of-bounds area of the mansion's surrounding grounds. Like a calf to the slaughter.  
  
* * *  
  
"I can't believe this Professor," Jean shook her head as her face appeared a mixture of confusion and bewilderment. "Why didn't she ever---"  
  
Jean was stopped half way through her sentence as the automatic doors to the War Room slid open and in walked Ororo, who was looking rather pale and Logan, who had a face like thunder. Scott, who'd been leaning on the central table, straightened up and looked over to Ororo, trying to make his sympathy for her situation obvious but it was difficult to affect that kind of unspoken support when nobody could see the expression in your eyes. Bobby and Marie sat in the far right-hand corner of the room, looking rather sheepish and feeling really quite awkward---they had the distinct feeling that this mission was going to be very different from any that they'd been on before.  
  
"I've filled them in Ororo---on everything that's been going on." The Professor said as he took his position at the head of the oval table that had six high-backed chairs around it.  
  
"Professor why?!" Ororo appeared genuinely hurt, like he'd betrayed her confidence. "What right had you to---"  
  
The Professor cut her off half way through her diatribe with an almost dismissive hand gesture. "Please Ororo; you must understand that it was necessary. We have a very serious problem arising." All eyes in the room were on Ororo, all with the same sympathetic look in them---pity almost, and that only angered her more. The only person who wasn't looking at her was Logan, who seemed to be immersed in his own little world, his already dark scowl getting deeper by the moment.  
  
"Can every body please take a seat." Charles said as he swept his hand across the air to indicate the empty seats before him. Silently they all did as they were asked.  
  
"Something has come to my attention---and it could have dire consequences for you Ororo." He paused, almost seeming reluctant to continue, but he did, "You and Catherine."  
  
Ororo opened her mouth to ask why but Logan's angry voice cut across before she got the chance, "For fucks sake Chuck! Will ya get to the point?" His frustration had reached boiling point and his moody silence was finally broken.  
  
"Logan." Ororo soothed quietly as she rubbed her hand up and down his bicep. But she understood his behaviour---he was angry. Angry at what his wife had been put through and although there was nothing he could do about it, it did stop him from being maddened. Anything that hurt his wife---past or present---affected him deeply, that's just the type of husband he was. And although his overtly protective displays sometimes irritated Ororo, she was more grateful for them than anything else, it was just his way of showing he cared---he couldn't help it.  
  
"Don't you talk to the---"Scott started it Charles defence, but he was cut off by the man himself.  
  
"It's O.K. Scott," He gestured to the X-Men's leader to calm down. "You're right of course Logan---there's no easy way to say this." Xavier looked directly at his Windrider, that same expression as the others in his eyes. "He is still alive---somehow---he survived."  
  
There was a brief chorus of whispered "Whats?" and "Hows?" as Ororo just stared at Xavier, truly pale now and her mouth agape. She instinctively grabbed for Logan's hand and he returned the sentiment tenfold.  
  
"How the hell can he still be alive?! She killed the bastard---she saw him die!" Logan snapped, misdirecting his anger at Charles. He'd obviously never come across the phrase "Don't shoot the messenger."  
  
"Logan, I don't---"The Professor started but at the same time Scott shouted over him, "Just calm the hell down---this isn't the Professor's fault!"  
  
"Keep out of this One-Eye, unless you want yer face rearranged!" Logan stood up briskly, the chair falling over behind him. He leant forwards on the table with his knuckles as Scott---who sat exactly opposite---did likewise. The men were practically eyeball to eyeball and for a moment nobody said a word. Despite the fact that the reason for their---distain for one another had long since passed, they still couldn't abide each other. It was a situation every one at the mansion had learned to live with as they could be at least civil to each other---most of the time.  
  
"Logan, please," Ororo said quietly, giving his shirt sleeve a soft tug, beckoning him to sit. He looked down at her, reluctantly breaking the increasingly tense stand-off. But as soon as he caught sight of his wife's face he soon forgot about the macho posturing. "Let's just listen to what Charles has to say shall we."  
  
Logan shook his head apologetically, "Sure, I'm sorry darlin'." He upturned his chair and sat back down, holding Ororo's hand once more.  
  
Scott sat then too, briefly looking at Jean but all she did was shake her head at him, an angry gleam sparking in her brown eyes. Then she turned away from him with a sharp toss of her head to face the Professor. Bobby and Marie exchanged weary glances once everything had calmed down. They felt like two children recently promoted to the adults table that were rapidly realising that it wasn't as fun as they thought it would be.  
  
"As I was saying, Jean and I felt a 'hostile' presence this morning. We didn't want to worry anybody until we had determined who or what it was. So I've spent the majority of the afternoon in Cerebro---that's when I came across him." Charles stopped for a moment to briefly assess how Ororo was taking all of this because his next revelation was going to be much harder to hear. "Ororo dear---the reason we could never find Catherine was because he has been blocking my path."  
  
"What?" Ororo's eyebrows knitted in complete confusion.  
  
"He's a telepath Ororo---more powerful than any other I have come across before. Almost as powerful as me. We could never find Catherine because he never wanted us to. I had my suspicion this morning---it was Catherine's mind that made contact with us---inadvertently. She probably didn't even realise she was doing it, but I felt a trace---a trace of the presence that I felt in your own mind when you let me see what happened to you in Cairo." Charles sighed, looking down at his clasped hands resting on the table. "I don't know why I didn't pick up on this then---maybe if I had we could of--- "  
  
"Don't blame yourself Charles," Ororo could sense where he was going with this and she wasn't about to let him feel guilty, not after everything he'd done for her. "If he's as powerful as you say he is then there was no way you could have known."  
  
"I should have at least checked for the signs." Charles continued his self- deprecation regardless.  
  
But then Jean stepped in, "Ororo's right Professor---you weren't to know."  
  
"So what do we do now?" Scott interjected, trying to get back to the issue at hand. "Is he a direct threat or what?"  
  
"At the moment I think it is imperative that we---" The Professor suddenly stopped half way through his sentence, his light blue eyes losing their specific focus.  
  
"Oh my God!" Jean whispered as her lesser talents slowly became aware of what Xavier had already picked up on.  
  
"What? What is it?!" Logan shouted, his usual impatience showing through.  
  
"He's here---he has Catherine."  
  
-TBC- 


	8. ChapterEight

Disclaimer: Same as last time.  
  
Thank-you to my reviewers.  
  
Chapter.8.  
  
"Iceman, I want you to come to the Ready Room with the rest of the team." Scott barked his order as he and the rest of the X-Men stormed down the corridor to change into their battle gear.  
  
"Uh, yeah---sure." Bobby replied uncertainly. He'd been on minor missions before but he knew this was going to be very different and he was nervous.  
  
"Rogue?"  
  
"Yeah?" Marie replied slightly breathlessly as she struggled to keep up.  
  
"We'll need you to stay here for this one---we need you to keep an eye on the school while we're gone."  
  
"But---" She started in protest.  
  
"Just do as he says kid." Logan told her tersely, he wasn't in the mood for handling her power-related inferiority complex with kit-gloves right now. He knew she had a hard time dealing with the fact that she couldn't really help when larger missions arose. But she had to realise that she might be a liability and that her taking charge of the school whilst the Professor kept track of the mission via Cerebro was an important job too---she was just as much an X-Man as the rest of them.  
  
"Don't call me that!" She said rather sulkily, which made Logan and Bobby laugh, but very half-heartedly given the circumstances. She gave Bobby the evil eye for it and then said, rather too knowingly, "Well I guess Ah'm not the only one not to be trusted on missions yet---Ah'm sure Remy will be happy to help me look after the school." It was Bobby's turn to flash her an annoyed look and out of the corner of her eye Marie caught it. She couldn't stop herself from smirking slightly; the boy was just too easy to wind up!  
  
Finally they reached the Ready Room and they all filed in, Bobby was the last but he was stopped momentarily by Rogue's gloved hand on his shoulder. "Be careful Bobby." She wanted so much to be able to kiss him and wished so much that she could be going with him---but she knew the others were right.  
  
"Hey," Bobby flashed a reassuring smile. "I'll be O. K Rogue, you know me," he raised his finger in front of him in a 'gun' gesture then blew the top of the 'barrel', but as he did so a stream of frosty air came from his mouth for the 'smoke' effect. "Cool as ice!"  
  
Marie laughed, tucking the strand of white hair that constantly escaped, back behind her ear. "You just make sure you come back in one piece, ya'll here." He pulled her into an embrace, careful not to touch her skin. Pulling her head back after a moment to look him in the eyes she then added, "I don't wanna be datin' chunks of ice cubes when you get back!"  
  
Bobby laughed, then he turned his head in the direction of the door as he heard Scott shout from behind him, "Iceman! Get in here now!"  
  
"I'm comin' Cyclops," turning back to Marie he added sarcastically just for her, "Your high and mighty leader!" She snickered like a school child hearing a dirty word for the first time as Bobby kissed her once through the cover of her brown and white hair at the side of her head. He didn't say anything more, following the others into the Ready Room. Marie watched until the very last gap in the sliding metallic door was closed. Turning away with a somewhat dejected demeanour, she slowly headed for the lift at the far end of the corridor that led back to the upper reaches of the mansion.  
  
* * *  
  
"Have you put the coordinates into the navigation system?" Cyclops asked Jean with his 'on the job' voice as he continued to flip switches and check meters.  
  
"Yes," Jean replied double checking and then triple checking them. "I just don't understand how he could have got so far so quickly." She shook her head as she thought about how in the space of what couldn't have been more than two hours or so, the Shadow King had managed to get from Westchester all the way back to Egypt.  
  
Still concentrating on the task of getting the 'Blackbird' ready for take- off, Scott replied distractedly as he reached for some switches above him, "Well we're not the only people in the world with transport capable of travelling at super-sonic levels."  
  
"I know that." Jean said rather dryly, casting her husband a look from the corner of her eye, which he no doubt missed. "But even in the 'Bird it's going to take us twice as long."  
  
"Jean." He almost hissed warningly then motioned his head in Ororo's direction. Jean got the picture; it wouldn't help Storm to hear such things so she promptly shut her mouth and busied herself with something else, fiddling with her ear piece communicator and what not.  
  
Just behind these two, Ororo sat already strapped into her seat with Logan crouched down in front of her trying to offer words of comfort.  
  
"Hey darlin'," he reached up and ran his thickly gloved hand into her hair, caressing the side of her face with his thumb. "We're going to get her back, O.K?" He peered up at her with that look that said, #Trust me!# and she did---she really did, but it was just so hard. Finding out that the Shadow King was some kind of powerful telepath had really shaken her and now all the events in Cairo all those years ago started to make sense. The strange sensation that she remembered feeling in her head that kick-started her powers into action---that was him, although it was completely different from how it felt when Jean or Charles entered her mind. Ever since the Professor had told them she had tried to remember every word that that despicable monster had said to her on that fateful day. Ranting about Prophecies and someone or something named 'Ka', but her mind was still a little hazy with the details---it had taken a lot of sessions with Xavier to pry some of these things lose. Even after all those, perhaps twenty to thirty, neither had come to the conclusion that he must have been some kind of telepath---but then again he'd been adept at hiding himself for all these years.  
  
Ororo nodded at him and tried to smile but it just wasn't working, Logan could tell she wasn't convinced. "Look---have I ever let you down before?"  
  
After a moment she shook her head, "No." she replied quietly.  
  
"That's right, so when I say we're going to get her back, that's exactly what I plan ta do." He raised himself up a little to kiss her, cupping her face with both hands. "What my wife wants, my wife gets and no crazed, telepathic bastard is gonna stand in my way!"  
  
Ororo couldn't help but laugh a little at her husband's wonderfully confidant, some would say arrogant, demeanour but all the promises and reassurances in the world wouldn't make her feel much better right now--- well, coming from Logan, perhaps they did a little.  
  
The engines of the Blackbird fired up, filling the surrounding hanger with intense heat as the sliding mechanism of the hanger roof AKA the basketball court, gradually started to open. Logan got up and strapped himself into the seat next to Ororo, then began flexing his hands. Suddenly there was a *zing* of metal and out popped his claws on both hands. He may have had customised gloves to accommodate his appendages these days but he still liked to release them before every mission, like a superstitious sportsman, it had become a kind of tradition for him, a ritual almost.  
  
"O.K, all systems engaged, everybody strapped in?" Scott called but didn't wait for conformation. "We are ready for take-off." For a second he sounded just like a cheesy pilot on a commercial flight.  
  
"Pompous idiot." Logan growled under his breath, but Bobby who was sat just behind him heard it and had to stifle a giggle. The plane began to lift from the ground, hovering for a moment or two before steadily rising up through the open roof.  
  
Ororo stared blankly out of the window at the rising sunset orange skyline, lost in her own thoughts. When suddenly she began to feel that distinctive tickling sensation at the back of her head and for a split second she panicked---but the sound of a familiar voice in her mind laid to rest her fears.  
  
#"My X-Men---good luck and be careful."#. They all received the message from Xavier as the Blackbird banked to the left and then zoomed away into the distance with a deafening roar, leaving two heat hazy jet-streams in its wake. All the schools pupils gathered at the rattling windows to watch the awesome sight, boggle eyed, like they did every time the X-Men went on a mission.  
  
* * *  
  
Abdul Hussar was curled up in the corner of an oppressively dark room, cold, hungry and scared. He had no idea how long he'd been in this place--- it could have been days then again it may have been months. The tall, lean Egyptian boy had been immersed in almost constant darkness since he'd been abruptly grabbed and bungled into a vehicle whilst wondering around Paris, looking for Catherine. He could remember travelling for hours, gagged, blindfolded and bound hand and foot, hearing the muffled voices of his captors around him. They definitely spoke Arabic but it was of a different dialect than he knew---it sounded old, ancient even. After what seemed like forever he'd felt himself being unceremoniously dragged from the van or whatever they'd originally been moving in and then thrown into something else. But after that Abdul remembered nothing---only the violent sharp sting of a hypodermic needle near the top of his right arm, then struggling against the onslaught of black that threatened to take hold of him---and quickly did.  
  
Now Abdul cowered in the same damp and cramped cell that he'd woken up from his drug-induced stupor in. He hadn't actually seen anybody yet either, only the odd shuffling sound here, an occasional muttered conversation caught there, but no one had told him where he was, much less why he was here. Twice a day, a small hatch at the bottom of the thick, iron door was slid open, making a sickening scrapping noise as the rusty metal groaned in resistance at the action and a tray of food was pushed through. Food? More like unidentifiable and most definitely uneatable slop. At first Abdul had refused to eat it, every time the offending mucus was brought to him he'd kick or throw it back at them, pebble-dashing the already dirty walls, all the while screaming and shouting profanities at the large, solid door. But all the effort was in vain, for his excursions attracted no response, not even dismissive laughs. But after a while Abdul gave in, he was growing tired and weak; he needed energy from wherever he could get it.  
  
The hatch opened now and in came yet another bowl of that insufferable crap, followed by a glass of cloudy 'water'. Abdul lurched across the floor, grasping at only the second bowl of grey, stodgy 'porridge', that he was prepared to eat, spilling some of it down his scruffy, ripped 'Smiths' T-Shirt as he dug his hand into the substance like a makeshift spoon and began to shovel it eagerly into his mouth. He was rapidly becoming malnourished and whatever it was they were giving him was not helping him at all. Unable to stop himself, Abdul suddenly dropped the bowl and began to heave, bringing back up what little food he'd managed to consume. This had happened last time as well, his stomach had become intolerant of solid substances after going so long without them. When it was over, Abdul took up the glass of water, gulping at the liquid quickly to take away the awful taste of acidic bile that swamped his mouth. To his dismay he found himself unable to keep that down either, it exploding back out of his mouth almost as soon as it had entered it. After that too had been expelled the boy coughed and spluttered for a while, before eventually collapsing back down into the corner for the room, breathing with a pitiful wheeze and beginning to feel hot.  
  
After a while Abdul composed himself and leaning forwards he weakly dragged the bowl, that was now almost empty and it's contents really quite cold, towards him. Taking it much more slowly he put a little amount at a time in between his dry and cracked lips, swallowing it taking the greatest effort as his throat was now sore and swollen. As he took the last meagre amount, he paused, the thick substance waiting on the tips of his fingers, just before his mouth. His thoughts suddenly turned to Catherine, and for the umpteenth time since this nightmare had begun he wondered where she was--- if they were treating him like this, then how where they treating her, for he was certain they must have her too.  
  
~"Catherine..."~ Abdul whispered her name with a tearful voice as he closed his dull, brown eyes and let the hand with the last of the food upon it fall down to the floor. His head lulled to the side as his entire body began to shake with silent cries---he was completely dejected and he didn't know how much longer he could go on like this.  
  
* * *  
  
Catherine was led down a torch lit corridor of what appeared to her to be some kind of a temple, by two guards dressed in scant, traditional clothing and brandishing a type of weapon, the likes of which she had never seen before. When they reached their destination one of them had pushed her in the back with his 'gun', forcing her into the room that sat to the left of the end of the corridor.  
  
She stood in it now, turning around in a slow circle, surveying all around her with wide, scared eyes. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked in wonder at the odd room. It was like some kind of ceremonial chamber, but it was rather small and a bed like object lay in its centre, draped in white linen. All around the rooms edges where bowls on stone plinths, but from where she stood she couldn't rightly see there contents, although she could smell various perfumes quite distinct from each other coming from all of them. Each bowl was covered in gold-leaf, as were the walls, but not just that, paintings, symbols and Hieroglyphics marked them also. The whole room was lit by the amber glow of just four torches hanging at angles from the walls.  
  
Catherine was about to go over to the 'bed' to sit when the door began to open again. She turned quickly to see who it was and was dismayed to see that it was that man, the man who had read her mind in Westchester, the man she had willingly followed in order to save Abdul. Gaining courage from god knows where, she barked at him, "Where is he?! I want to see him now!"  
  
The man descried her from the door way in his long black over-coat, his hands folded over one another, resting on top of a long black ivory cane. Despite the small amount of light he still wore the dark glasses as before and his skin still appeared deathly pale, the baldness of his head even more so. ~"All in good time my daughter."~  
  
"What?! No, no, no...!" Her voice trailed off as she looked at the man in bewilderment, although she'd had her suspicions as to who he was; it still came as an almighty shock. Shaking her head as she resumed her whispered protestations, Catherine began to walk backwards away from him, feeling blindly with her hands for objects behind her.  
  
~"Yes Catherine---my daughter," he laughed at her hoarsely. ~ "Or more accurately, my walking abortion."~ The King started to walk towards her and Catherine found herself falling down onto the bed as its edge collided into the back of her knees. ~ "You see, you were a mistake. You were never meant to exist."~ He was stood right before her now peering down at her over the top of his glasses.  
  
Catherine began to breathe harshly as fear gripped her and her heart-rate rose uncontrollably, unable to tear her gaze away from his horrid, blood shot eyes. Crawling back onto the bed she threw herself over onto all fours and tried to clamour away over the other side of the bed, desperate to get as far away from him as possible. But she was stopped abruptly as the Shadow King reached forwards and grasped a handful of her now loose white hair, roughly pulling her back towards him. ~"ARGH! Let me go! Let me go!"~ She cried, slipping back into her mother tongue as her hands went up to his in an effort to pry them from her hair. But it was no use, he was much stronger than he looked and she couldn't break free, no matter how hard she tried.  
  
~ "Understand this girl."~ His now deep voice rumbled, low in her ear as he pulled her back to meet his chest. ~"By the end of today, you will be dead and the Windrider will be mine. She escaped me once, she killed me---but she did not realise that a mind as powerful as mine can not be destroyed by mere physical death. This body,"~ He spread his arm that held the cane to the side to indicate the decrepit shell his mind now inhabited. ~"This body was a means to an end. But once the Prophecy has been fulfilled it will no longer matter."~ He released her hair and shoved her back down, she only just managed to catch herself, avoided a painful face first collision by millimetres.  
  
Then the King started to walk back to the door, as a now shaking Catherine turned her head back to watch him go over her shoulder. She wanted to shout, she wanted to scream, but found that her voice had deserted her.  
  
~ "Be under no illusions Catherine,"~ he called back as he went through the doorway; ~"You are nothing more than my insurance policy."~  
  
As soon as she heard his footsteps retreating off into the distance, Catherine turned her head back to the front. After a moment of utter stillness she began to weep, burying her head into the soft white cloth beneath her. All her hope had slipped away with the hollow sound of his footsteps and to top it all her head was beginning to throb, pulsing with the dull threat of more pain to come. Grasping at her head, Catherine curled into a foetal-like ball as her sobs of despair began to rack through her entire body.  
  
* * *  
  
Two hours later, Memphis, the capital of Ancient Egypt.  
  
The Blackbird did a three hundred and sixty degree swoop around the structure that lay on its own, in the rippled sand of the dessert, just outside of the present capital of Egypt, Cairo.  
  
"O. K, I'm bringing her down." Scott informed the rest of the team as he was satisfied that all the space around the temple-looking building that the Professor had reliably informed them was Catherine's location, was safe to land on. Banking around once more to be double sure Scott prepared to make the final descent. "Ready?" He called over to Jean.  
  
"Oh---err, yeah sure." She replied, not sounding particularly ready at all, the pain that had hit her mind two hours ago, which she had instantly recognised as Catherine was still lingering, like it had done yesterday, (by the time they had arrived in Egypt it was indeed the next day from Catherine's abduction, due to the time zone difference), but as they neared Memphis it had become worse.  
  
Scott noticed his partners discomfort immediately, even daring to slip out of leader mode for a moment to check on her well being. "You O. K?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah---I'm fine." She rubbed her fingers over her forehead in contradiction. "Let's just find Catherine and get the hell out of here." Jean then got back to the job and completed her shut down duties as co- pilot, a job usually taken by Storm but Jean had insisted on taking her place for this one; an offer Ororo had secretly been pleased to receive .  
  
As the awesome looking plane gradually settled to the ground, sand wiping about it as the cooling engines blasted the last of their fading power into the ground, both Storm and Wolverine were already unbuckling, eager to get out and on with the mission. Once they had finally settled and all relevant meters were checked and switches flicked, Cyclops and Jean were not far behind them. It was only Iceman who lagged behind, fidgeting with the collar of his tight-fitting leather uniform as if it were strangling him.  
  
The four older X-Men made their way, in a uniformed line down the now open hatch of the Blackbird, the last in the line being Scott. Turning his head back as he was just about to go through the door, he noticed Bobby's hesitancy, "Hey, Iceman."  
  
Bobby's head shot up from his intense concentration on his thick buckled boots, his eyes wide as if he'd just been startled from an absorbing daydream, "Uh, yeah?" He replied weakly.  
  
Cyclops' stern face suddenly softened, he could see the lad was bricking it, and he wasn't that much of an authoritarian that he didn't feel sympathy for him. "Iceman---Bobby," He moved back into the plane and lay his hand reassuringly on the boy's shoulder, "We've got your back O. K? There's nothing to be worried about---we X-Men look out for our own."  
  
Bobby managed a small nervous smile up at Scott as he nodded his head at him to try and convince him that he believed in his leader, "Yeah---yeah, I know."  
  
"Alright then, let's get a move on." Scott turned and quickly left the plane, leaving Bobby to follow, slowly but at least in his heart a little more confidently.  
  
*  
  
After a cursory check around the parameters of the sand stone building, that looked fairly like one of the ancient pyramids, except that it had a bit more of an angular appearance, more akin to the pyramids of the Incas, they determined that their was no outside security of note. A fact that seriously bothered Logan, but he kept his concerns to himself for the meantime.  
  
"O. K," Scott began as his team gathered around him to listen to his plan of action. "There is only one entrance, and as there are no guards we can only presume that there are either automated systems of defence built into the structure itself or---."  
  
"Or," Logan cut in, "The bastard's expecting us and the second we step through that door we're dead meat."  
  
"Thank-you Logan," Scott said curtly, turning to the side to face him, "I'd come to that conclusion myself, now if I could get on with the briefing?"  
  
Logan was about to project a sharply aimed insult back at Cyclops but was stopped by Ororo's increasingly familiar #just stop now please#, touch to his arm---which he did immediately.  
  
With a condescending sigh, not unlike a teacher after having had to warn a petulant pupil about their behaviour, Scott turned back to the group as a whole, "The way I see it is that our only choice is to go in there as they are expecting us to, but I want you," he was addressing Jean, "to contact the Professor and get him to give us a lay out of the guard formation in our immediate vicinity, while you concentrate on getting a lock on Catherine's position." Professor Xavier had already told Jean that her proximity to the girl would give her a better chance of breaking the Shadow King's psychic 'buffers' around her.  
  
"I agree." Storm came in firmly; she was second in command still, so she felt she had the right to put in with her strategic plan also. "The Professor's information will be all very well and good but as a back up, I think Wolverine should lead us in. His enhanced senses will be able to keep us one step ahead as well."  
  
Ororo expected resistance from Scott and was surprised to find him agreeing whole-heartedly, "That's a good plan Storm, so if we're ready, let's make our move." Amid a low chorus of 'we're readies' the X-Men marched down the slight incline that led to the large carved doors at the front of the temple as the sun began to make its customary descent over the sand-dune littered horizon.  
  
-TBC- 


	9. ChapterNine

Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers, sorry about the update delay, been busy archiving new stories elsewhere!  
  
Chapter.9.  
  
The X-Men entered the building with a confidant stride, in belie of the sense of trepidation that was settling over the entire camp---even Wolverine. Sure, they'd fought formidable foes before, none more so than Magneto. But this was different and they all knew it, they'd never gone against a telepath that was almost every bit as strong as Professor X himself, and that was a cause for concern for even the most cast-iron stomached amongst them.  
  
As they all stood in the centre of the cavernous, flame-lit space, Bobby started to nod to himself in what appeared to be recognition. Scott caught the action out of the corner of his eye, "What id it Bobby?"  
  
He continued to eye-up the space carefully as he said, "This is a Mastaba.", smiling at his recognition of the structure.  
  
"Of course." Ororo whispered to herself, wondering why she had not been the first to pick up on it.  
  
"What the hell's a 'Mastaba'?" Logan asked, momentarily taking his mind off sniffing for any presence, looking first at Bobby and then at his wife.  
  
"A Mastaba," Bobby began, pleased that at least some of the information that Ororo had taught him in Ancient History class had sunk through that thick skull of his. "It's an underground tomb, with an above ground structure---it's Old Kingdom."  
  
"It may look 'Old Kingdom'," Logan began as he strode over to the left-side wall. "But this place certainly ain't old---I can smell the fresh mortar." He ran his gloved index finger along the indented space between two bricks, some of the still slightly damp cement inside rubbing off on his, instinctively bringing the substance close to his nose and giving it a little sniff.  
  
"So how does that help us?" Jean asked, not sure of the relevance of this information.  
  
"It means this building was built specifically for a purpose," Ororo began, looking up at the ceiling that was lost in a thick blackness. "He built it for a reason---ceremonial perhaps?" She shuddered internally as all sorts of dark possibilities ran through her mind---each scenario worse than the one before.  
  
"Look, let's not jump to conclusions," Scott interjected, ever the voice of reason. "Jean, are you picking up anything more---anything clearer?"  
  
Jean shook her head, her high red pony tail swaying to and fro, "Not yet--- I'll contact Charles, get an update on those guard positions." Her head was pounding worse than ever, but she didn't want to worry Scott unduly. Pushing the pain as far from her immediate attention as she could, Jean concentrated her mind on the dark void that led out into the astral plain.  
  
* * *  
  
In Cerebro...  
  
# Charles? # Jean's voice seemed to reverberate around the vast metallic space, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.  
  
# Yes Jean? # The Professor replied in his usual measured tone as he watched a physical picture of his fledgling telepath form before his eyes from a haze of distorted white mist.  
  
# Can you see the guards? # As she spoke, the rest of the room began to assemble itself inside Cerebro, bringing the rest of the team into Xavier's unique view.  
  
# There are none on the upper levels, Jean---but their lack of presence disturbs me more than if they were actually there. # Charles admitted, he'd been searching ever since he'd picked up on Scott's plan of action. # I can only suggest that you proceed as planned, either Wolverine or I will pick up something as you get further in, I'm sure of it. Just concentrate your energy into finding Catherine---before it's too late. #  
  
*  
  
Jean was about to ask him what he meant by that last comment, did he know more about the Shadow Kings plans for Catherine than he'd dared to let on? But he broke their connection before she had the chance to question him on the matter. Without further delay the X-Men forged on into the heart of the tomb to meet whatever awaited them.  
  
* * *  
  
The Shadow King sat in his reconstructed temple, on his reconstructed throne, decked-out in all his finery, the softest, smoothest of cobalt blue silks, the purest of golden chains and symbolic rings around his bony white fingers. He sat stock still as his mind traced the path of his pray, edging ever closer to him, all too willingly. The time was almost upon them, written in the stars and in the pages of ancient text, emerging from the suffocating mists of time and lost history---yes, the day had come indeed.  
  
~ "Rashid!" ~ He called to one of his elite guard, eight loin cloth clad men with the latest in weapons technology clutched uniformly to their chests. He turned, standing to attention immediately, with the look of a well trained drone in his eyes. ~ "Get the girl, I need her to be with me for when the Windrider comes to me." ~ For he was confident that with his plan put into action, she would come to him with the minimum of fuss.  
  
~ "Yes, your Grace. At once." ~ Bowing obediently, the tall muscular man left his post, taking the man to his immediate left with him to retrieve the 'bait'.  
  
* * *  
  
They'd been wandering for nearly half-an-hour now and still nothing, not even a mouse. Professor X had been unable to detect anybody near to them, Logan could neither smell nor hear even the faintest indication of human presence and that disturbed him more than he was letting on. He led the team now, down yet another narrow, dark stone-walled passage way, the only sound in the stuffy and restricted area being the crunching sound made by several pairs of heavy-duty leather boots on sandy floors.  
  
Suddenly Wolverine came to a halt, putting his hand up to stop the others, which they did summarily.  
  
"What is it Wolverine?" Cyclops asked as he stood just behind the taller X- Man, first looking at the back of Logan's head in anticipation of an answer, then around the seemingly empty hallway.  
  
"SHUSH!" Logan admonished as he took a couple of short steps forwards, then turning slowly he looked past Cyclops, past Storm, struggling to ignore the quite distinct scent of fear that was literally pouring from her and to the red head, stood close behind her. "Jean?"  
  
He knew she could feel it too, her own psychic ability would have picked up the early warning signs of immanent contact, as had his enhanced senses; he didn't quite know why but his keen neuro-sensors seemed to be able to pick up on these things, almost as swiftly as a telepath, but through a physical stimuli rather than a mental one obviously.  
  
"I can feel it Logan." Jean said with a slight tremble as her eyes wandered around the space with nervous movements. Then they all began to feel it as a particularly intrusive form of telepathy forced its way into contact, not just their brains buzzing with the sensation, but their entire being almost, down to their very core. Unfortunately for Logan, with his gifts, the feeling was actually making him physically nauseous and he had to lean himself against the wall to stop from falling.  
  
"Well, so you are finally here Windrider." A deep and rumbling voice bounced around inside their minds, causing an unscratchable itch somewhere at the back of their skulls and throats. "And I see you've brought company." He laughed then, rich yet infuriating, just like on their first encounter Ororo thought, with an anger that took her mind away from her immediate concern for Catherine and the fear of this enclosed space that had been threatening to consume her more and more by the second. She knew Logan would be aware of this and was extremely grateful that he hadn't tried to interfere, trusting her to overcome this problem herself. It really did prove to her that he had faith in the magnitude of her strength and funnily enough, that alone had given her the courage to get this far without breaking down.  
  
"WHERE ARE YOU? YOU COWARDLY BASTARD!" A quickly recovered Logan roared, trying to look around everywhere at the same time as gleaming adamantium broke free of its housing in the heat of the moment. He continued to stride to and fro as he shouted into the air above, "COME AND FACE ME YOU FU---."  
  
"It would appear your animal needs to be put on a leash, Windrider." The Shadow King cut across the impending expletive, that same laugh colouring his tone. But his voice came from the outside now, pinging from the walls, an echo following it closely, but it was still telepathic somehow. Jean quickly realised that he was astral-projecting his voice, which meant his physical projection could not be too far behind. It was something she and the Professor had only ever theorised about before; they'd never actually attempted it, not even Charles was sure he could manage to do it at the moment. But she didn't have long to ponder this because coming into being right before the X-Men's very eyes was a tall, pale man in robes and various fineries of gold and gem stone, like a ghost, he appeared to have been made of nothing more than a translucent mist.  
  
Even though the rational part of Logan's brain told him the figure was nothing more than an apparition, that side of his mind couldn't seem to get the message across to his much more dominate instinctual side and he found himself lunging at the image with a resounding roar, claws first; only to go straight through it and crash into the wall at the end of the corridor, his artificially-enhanced weapons digging into the soft brick right down to their base at his knuckles.  
  
The Shadow King didn't even bother to look behind him to see what had become of his would-be attacker, he just watched Ororo, his unshaded bloodshot eyes bearing into her very soul and she found herself utterly paralysed for a moment, rooted to the spot.  
  
"What do you want with the girl?" Scott was the first to speak up, not showing one bit that he was as fazed by all this as the rest.  
  
But the King ignored him, preferring to address Ororo directly, "If you wish the girl to live, you will come directly to me this instant."  
  
"The hell she will!" Came Wolverine's response on his wife's behalf as he strode back over to the group having finally managed to pry his claws from the wall. There was a tense stand-off for a moment as Ororo and the Shadow King's facsimile exchanged unwavering gazes, for the first time since September 27th 1988. Although it wasn't physically the same person, there was still that tyrant apparent in his eyes, looking back at her in the exact same way as on the night Karima had died. And then she knew that she was Catherine's only hope.  
  
At first Storm only nodded her head at her enemy, before whispering, "Yes."  
  
"What the hell do ya think yer doing darlin'?" Logan shouted with a voice full of anger and concern in equal measures. He had to physically grip and turn her away from the King's gradually disintegrating image in order to make her look him in the eye. "'Ro, I'm not just gonna stand here and let ya hand yerself over to that demented freak!"  
  
Ororo finally brought her full attention to what her husband was saying to her, shaking her head at him, her eyes covered with a thin film of tears. "Logan, you don't understand, I'm her only hope. If that monster wants me, I'll gladly exchange my life for hers."  
  
"'Ro, you don't know what your saying sweetie," Jean came in as Logan released her and she took hold, turning her best friend to face her. "We will work something out here; let's just carry on trying to find her O. K?"  
  
"Jean's right Ororo," it was Scott's turn now, but he kept his distance. "Come on, time's wasting." Bobby was the only one not to give words of encouragement as he skulked at the back of the group, still in shock at what he'd just seen and amazed that the older X-Men seemed to be taking it in their stride, like they saw ghost-like men appear and disappear every day of the week. Not even living at the Institute had prepared him for that one, and they were receiving students with odder and odder mutations almost every week now!  
  
"Come on then." Scott resumed charge and even took up the mantle at the front of the group now, but Logan didn't protest, he just followed, glancing down at Storm every five seconds, keeping an eye on her. They didn't get too far though, when Logan ordered everyone to stop once more; he could definitely hear someone coming now or 'someones', as it sounded, the thunderous stomp of a frog-march making it's way from far-off to his sensitive ears. They rounded the corner into a suddenly much more open space, not a room as such but it was certainly over double the width of the previous corridors, allowing the team to fan out in preparation for the ensuing battle that they felt sure was coming straight for them.  
  
"O. K, team, this seems like a good place to hold our ground." Cyclops started as he turned to face them, knowing he only had a brief amount of time in which to give his last orders. "We know that they can't start firing indiscriminately, they obviously need Storm alive. So no rash actions that could set off itchy trigger fingers people." Everyone knew who that last command was aimed at. With that, he turned to the front once more and in a regimented line; Storm, Wolverine, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Iceman, the X-Men faced the direction of the oncoming horde.  
  
*  
  
~ "THEY ARE HERE! THEY ARE HERE!"~ The commander of a small troop of armed guards shouted back to his men as they entered the space where the X-Men were stood fast, awaiting their aggressors. ~ "Remember our orders men!" ~ The fifteen strong unit broke into two lines, one behind the other, crouching to the floor and kneeling on one leg whilst readying their weapons on the other, like a firing squad. It was clear that they were all well trained in marksmanship, but their guns seemed strange.  
  
"What the hell are they holding?!" Iceman whispered out of the corner of his mouth toward Jean who was stood next to him. They looked far to rounded and bulky to be normal guns,  
  
She shook her head, "I---I don't know Bobby." But she had a terrible feeling that they were about to find out, but then she had an inspirational if somewhat risky idea. #Scott! # she called out telepathically, # I'm going to try the manoeuvre we've been working on. #  
  
#If you're sure, you've only done it once or twice, honey. # Scott was most unsure about this being the appropriate testing field for Jean's latest move with her telekinesis, but he trusted her. "Do it!" Scott gave the order and Jean reacted quickly, concentrating all her mental energy into building a force field of pure telekinesis from the very particles of air, mentally grasping their elusive solid form and sealing the corridor in front of them from wall to ceiling. And as it turned out it was just as well she did it at that exact moment because it was then that the guards opened fire, thin beams of electric blue coloured light emitting from them. They looked just like Cyclops' optic-blasts, but artificially generated through this clearly cutting edge weapons technology. The second they hit Jean's shield, that looked just like a plate of glass with rivulets of rain dancing about it, not giving a care for the laws of gravity, they ricochet right back off it, hitting and instantly killing twelve of the fifteen men. The others shouted in panic and ceased firing as they scrambled up from the floor, amiss at what to do now.  
  
"Let it down Jean." Scott shouted over the noise of the scared men, "Let's go!" The whole team began to advance forwards onto the remaining guards, fully expecting them to scatter, but Cyclops had his hand ready at the dial on his visor, just in case. When more running and stomping feet could be heard coming in from a corridor just off to the left of them in a clever ambush tactic. Not even Wolverine had sensed them coming and when Professor X had finally given the warning cry, it was too late and they had been set upon. A blast, similar to the other ones was the first thing to come from this new team, but it was yellow this time and it crashed straight into Storm's chest just as she was lifting from the floor on a light current, sending her into the wall.  
  
"STORM!" Logan cried out, filled with unbelievable rage and horror at the sight of his beloved slumped against the wall, blood rapidly staining her beautiful white hair as it seeped from an unseen wound. He tried to make his way over to her, slashing at anything in sight as pot-shots were fired from all directions from these different guns and they were returned randomly in the form of red optic-beams, telekinetic blasts of pure force and streams of ice.  
  
Two guards, one of which had been the man to pull the trigger, reached Storm first, hastily dragging her down the passage way they had only just emerged from and once they were clear the rest of the attacking forces suddenly pulled back without warning, firing shots back at them to cover their retreat.  
  
"This way!" The team were about to take off in the direction that Ororo had been taken when they heard a strange *tinking* sound bouncing down the corridor, like a small drinks-can scuttling down a pavement in the wind. Whatever it was it had been thrown by one of the last soldiers to leave the scene and now it was coming to rest at Logan's feet. He recognised what it was immediately.  
  
"GET CLEAR!" Wolverine shouted to the remaining X-Men as he hurled himself on top of the small, round object, his midriff landing squarely over it. And then it went off.  
  
-TBC- 


	10. ChapterTen

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
Thank you reviewers, sorry about the wait!  
  
Chapter.10.  
  
When Jean, Scott and Bobby eventually dared to look up from the ground, they were horrified at the mess that lay before them. There, as the dust settled and the odd grain of sand sparkled in the torch-light, Logan was spread-eagled on the floor; a pool of thick, dark blood oozed from beneath his stomach, spreading rapidly. Chunks of pink and bloodied flesh were sprayed across the ground, along with melded pieces of leather uniform and the burning stench of both was hanging oppressively in the air.  
  
"Oh my god! Logan!" Jean was the first on the scene, grabbing Logan's limp, lifeless bulk by his left arm and rolling him over so that his badly damaged upper-body rested in her lap. "Logan!" She screeched again as she tried her best to assess the damage but there was just so much blood; the artificial glint of perfectly shiny adamantium ribs glared back at her from the deep gaping hole that was once Wolverine's stomach. Scott ran over to her then, yanking one glove off with his teeth as he went and as he knelt on the ground at the other side of Logan from Jean, he pushed his fingers underneath the high leather collar of the injured man's uniform; feeling around frantically for a pulse. Seconds dragged like hours for the three X- Men as they stared down at their fallen comrade with desperate hope, but Scott couldn't feel anything, and despite the fact that he and the rest of them knew about Logan's amazing healing abilities, they all feared the worst, it was a natural reaction to seeing such carnage.  
  
But as he was about to pull his hand away, starting to ruefully shake his head, Scott suddenly felt a large thump under his middle and index finger as they pressed hard against Logan's neck, just beneath his jaw-line.  
  
"Yes!" Scott whispered almost to himself as he withdrew his hand and then took Logan from Jean's lap, laying him flat on the ground so he could get a better picture as to whether he was healing quickly or not. The sense of relief all round was palpable as Jean sighed, inadvertently letting out a racked sob and Bobby leant back against the wall, literally feeling his heart sinking back down to his chest from his mouth. Scott peered down into Logan's body, amazed to witness the flesh, muscles and blood vessels repairing themselves at frightening speed, like a video-tape playing on fast-forward. It was going at such a speed that he could no longer see the shine of the adamantium ribs and everything appeared to be going well, but he was still unconscious. Scott presumed it was his body's way of coping with such extreme trauma; he'd never seen Wolverine take such a bad hit before.  
  
"Scott, what are we going to do now?" Jean asked from somewhere behind him as she checked the immediate area for any returning forces.  
  
The whole time Scott had been checking Logan he'd still had one eye on the ball, formulating a plan of action in his mind, "Iceman, I need you to take Wolverine back to the Blackbird until he's completely healed. Jean and I will carry on looking, but we've got Storm as our priority now too. So as soon as you can, I need you two to come back in and look for her, whilst we search for Catherine, O. K?"  
  
Bobby simply nodded, his eyes locked onto Logan's rapidly healing form the whole time.  
  
"O. K." Satisfied that Bobby would just about be able to hold it together, Scott got up from the floor, clasping Jean's hand in his as he did so, starting off down the corridor once more, but he stopped just before they rounded the edge. Turning back to Bobby he reminded him, "And Iceman, if there's any problems, just use this." He let go of Jean's hand, using it to tap the small metal 'X' that was attached to his uniform, high on the left side of his chest. Bobby smiled and nodded, checking that his own X- communicator was safely in place. Then he watched as they disappeared from sight and he was left, to all intents and purposes, alone.  
  
* * *  
  
#I can't breathe! I CAN'T BREATHE!# Ororo sat bolt upright, her hands coming up to her neck and immediately finding a thin, curved piece of metal encircling it. She dug her fingers into the small space between it and her skin and tried to pull. Again and again she tugged at it but the collar wouldn't budge; it was stuck fast. It was only then that she opened her eyes. There were four men stood about her, all dressed in white linen tunics but what was most startling was the fact that they all had perfectly skinned leopards on their backs; the heads of the animal skins acting like hoods, their paws draped over the men's shoulders. Ororo forgot about the restraint around her neck for a moment as she stared in confused amazement at the men as they stood around the plinth that she was lay on, chanting in a language that was unknown to her. Just as she got her head around them being there, they began to fall back, stepping to the side as another figure came to the fore. A tall, thin, pale man, dressed in cobalt blue...  
  
~ "Ororo, you have finally come round I am glad to see." ~ He stepped closer and the light of a nearby candle fell upon his face...and somehow, she knew it was him. ~ "I hope the hit you took from the stun-laser was not too painful."~  
  
Ororo had a second to glance down and realise that she was no longer in her leather uniform, but a soft, white slip, similar to the men-with-leopards. ~ "What have you done with Catherine?"~ She didn't even realise she speaking Arabic.  
  
~ "She is...safe."~ Was his cryptic reply. As the Shadow King came around to Ororo's side, she never let her eyes fall from him; gazing up at him with barely concealed contempt.  
  
~ "Where is she?"~ She was unperturbed by his menacing stare, asking the question with an adamant determination and icy calm, for her own safety was the last thing on her mind. This monster could do whatever he wanted to her, as long as he left her niece unharmed.  
  
~ "You need not concern yourself with that at this moment. There are much more important things we must prepare for."~ He took a step back as four young, dark haired women, who had only a length of white cloth about their waists, a gold collar around their necks and were bare breasted, came forwards from the shadows of the room. But somewhere, in the murky hidden folds of the room, the other men still chanted their ceaseless mantra. The girls came up to Ororo and each took a piece of her tunic, pulling it off her body. She grabbed at it, making a desperate attempt to stop them from un-robbing her and without thinking she tried to summon her powers...but they wouldn't come. She tried again and then the Shadow King chuckled, ~ "I wouldn't bother doing that Ororo. That,"~ he pointed at the flat piece of enscriptured metal about her neck, digging into the skin just bellow the collar bone. ~ "That will prevent any nasty accidents from occurring, as happened last time."~ A truly chilling wry smile forced the upward movement of his thin, cracked lips.  
  
By now, the girls had taken Ororo's thin layer of covering from her so that she was sat upright and naked save for the collar that she now realised, from her abortive attempt to summon the weather to her unique command, was somehow constructed to block her powers. But she didn't feel shame and nor did she try to cover her nudity, in fact, her resolve was swelling by the second. ~ "What do you want of me tyrant?"~ No fear, no doubt.  
  
~ "The prophecy child...it is all written in the stars and has been since the dawn of time, like the universe itself, it is unmoveable, unshakable and infinite in its existence."~ Ororo fought the urge to let out a condescending laugh in response to this mad man's ramblings, but at least they where buying her some time to try and work out a plan of action or, or...something. ~ "Let me tell you a story if you will, Ororo Munroe."~ He walked over to a seat that was slightly raised from the floor on a couple of steps, opposite the plinth. ~ "The story of a man, who stumbled upon his fate, had been blindly falling towards it for his entire life without realising."~ Resting his hands on the delicately curving ends of the intricately carved wooden chair the Shadow King settled back and began. ~ "As a young man I trained as an Egyptologist at the University of Cairo but even then I knew I had this gift---the gift to enter peoples minds, to make them do my will if I so wished. But it was on an excavation in a newly discovered tomb South-West of Memphis, the very heart of the great dynasties of Ancient Egypt, that my life and this extraordinary power I possessed, all began to make sense. We discovered a wall deep in the bowls of the Mastaba that was encrypted with a type of hieroglyphics, the likes of which no-one had seen before. Un-yet, for some reason I felt...compelled...drawn almost to decipher its meaning, its locked secrets that had been hidden for thousands of years and may have remained so for thousands more. But...you can not escape your fate. And so, I spent years studying the scripture, trawling through the Book of the Dead for some key to its symbols, its peculiar syntax and after many days, weeks, months and eventually years...I unlocked it and it was..."~ His head tilted up and looked about the room, as if trying to pull the correct adjective out of the air. Then, with a wistful sigh, he said, ~ "...an epiphany."~  
  
The servant-girls had now come back to Ororo, with bowls of sweet-smelling milky liquids, whose scent was thick and strangely intoxicating, like the most potent of incense. They all set them down carefully at the four corners of the plinth and in time with each other, they reached inside, drawing out lumps of natural sponge; giving them a good squeeze, they came in on Ororo and started to wipe her body with the substance, 'cleansing' the skin with ritually methodical strokes. None of the girls would catch her eye, in fact they all seemed to be in some kind of a trance or daze. So Ororo didn't trouble herself with them and let them proceed with their task unhindered. She wanted to listen to this mad man because she was finally receiving answers as to why her entire family were dead, save for Catherine...at the moment anyway.  
  
~ "I don not expect you to understand girl---I can see that look in your eyes, you think me mad. But I assure you Goddess---for that is what you truly are---after this night you will thank me and think no more of these, these...earthly trappings."~ (By which he clearly meant Catherine and Logan) ~ "You, my girl, where meant for higher things. Not serving those humans who would kill you, not protecting them. Indeed, they should worship you and oh, how they will."~ He laughed, gleeful and spiteful all at once, ~ "...oh how they will, believe me."~  
  
~ "And how do you intend on making them do that?"~ She had enough of his insanity, his promises of grandeur---she only wanted to know the cause of this madness, the reasons for his delusions.  
  
The Shadow King sensed her haste and smiled at her as he stepped down from the seat and came towards her once more. The girls moved away, only to return swiftly with fresh bowls containing a clear rose-coloured liquid this time and immediately set about repeating the procedure of 'cleansing'. All the while Ororo and the King held each others gaze in the flickering fire light and the priests in the corners continued to chant...~ "It was prophesied that a new and all-powerful 'Triad of Abydos' would be reborn to rule Egypt and all of Africa when Mercury aligns with Sah, the constellation of Orion...a Goddess, who is the personification four Goddesses incarnate, shall be reborn. Ka will be Nut; goddess of all skies. She will be Tehmet; goddess of the dew and the rain. She will be Heqat; who is the embodiment of the mist and the fog. But most importantly, Ka will be Isis, the true Goddess of Nature. She will be all these things in the body of one Goddess, one Supreme Being who is beyond reproach by all others and all things; she will wield nature and therefore all life to her will. And to this Goddess will be joined the Mindwalker."~ Ororo's breath caught in her throat but she fought hard not to show it, swallowing down slowly, affecting a veneer of complete, cool control in the face of what he was proposing. The girls pulled her arms out so that she was sat, like an upright crucifix, wiping the scented water over the outstretched limbs. ~ "The Mindwalker, it was written, shall join in a cosmic union with Ka as Mercury shifts and on the moment of alignment a son shall be conceived of the union, bringing the mighty God Osiris back to the realm of the living and creating the Abydos Triad anew and WE SHALL RULE!"~ The last part of his rendition of the prophecy had been spoken with edgy excitement and agitation almost, until it ended with a crashing crescendo; shaking fists in the air and wild joy. There was no doubt that he believed all this to be true, all this utter nonsense and Ororo could now do nothing in the face of it but laugh, which earned her a smart slap. ~ "YOU MOCK! But you will not for long!"~  
  
Wrenching her arms from the girls, who put up little resistance to the action, Ororo rubbed her cheek briefly as her hair fell from her face, narrowing her eyes at the King, the old anger returning. But then again, maybe it had never left...~ "Do you really believe all of this? Are you that completely insane that you think yourself a God? I know what it is to be treated like a Goddess and I know what it is to be blamed for destruction that is only nature's way. I rid myself of any lingering delusions a long time ago...maybe I never believed them in the first place. All I do know is that I have been blessed with these powers but I am no more a Goddess than you are a God."~ She shifted forwards on the plinth, pushing herself along with the palms of her hands, before dropping, gracefully, off the edge. Her bare feet crunching on the sand as she stood with no fear before the Shadow King; their eye-line's more or less level. ~ "You killed my parents and wrongfully took my sister in my place to fulfil your egotistical desires...you will pay dearly for your presumptions."~ She hesitated, but only briefly before her next words came forth. ~ "I have killed you once...I have no qualms about doing so again."~ Ororo surprised herself to find that she meant that threat. After all the pain and soul- searching her last act of fatal aggression had caused, (for a while she had thought she'd never want to use her powers again) and yet here she was, ready and willing to kill again. But she had no time to question herself; she was working on the pure adrenaline that the raging hatred for this monster had stirred in her...and the fact that he could rouse that side of her nature only made her despise him more.  
  
~ "Bring her in!"~ The King ordered and turned his head to the door as two guards came in, dismissive of her threat but somehow convinced of its genuineness. One of the guards came through the black hole that was the doorway with a clump of chains curling several times around his podgy, calloused hand, the metal loops being attached to something that was shuffling along behind them. Whatever it was had obviously come to a halt just outside the door because the guard was forced to give the chains a vicious tug, pulling in, to Ororo's eternal horror, Catherine. Bound at the hands with thick, coarse rope, the chains fastened about her neck in a choke fashion so that when the guard tugged again, the steel strangled her, making her pitch forwards, tripping on the long white robe she had been placed in and collapsing to the ground at Ororo and the King's feet.  
  
"Catherine!" Ororo practically fell to the floor in her haste to get to her niece. "What have they done to you?" She asked mournfully as she wiped Catherine's loose, thick hair out of her face only to be met with the absent stare of a catatonic. ~"What have you done to her?!"~ Ororo cried up at her captor, only taking her eyes from Catherine for a moment. "My poor child!" She whispered as she wiped again at her hair, pushing more out of the way.  
  
~ "I have done nothing, I regret to say that she fell into this state all by herself. But if you wish her to be well again or to live at all...you will do as I ask"~ He managed to crouch his creaking frame down to the floor, placing his fingers on the collar around Ororo's neck, running them thoughtfully along its length at the front ~ "Despite this power inhibitor, I still can not enter your mind fully until you let down those obstructing barriers that this...Professor...has placed there."~  
  
~ "So you're not all powerful after all!"~ She spat back at him and simultaneously being grateful for the lessons that Charles had given her, and indeed Scott, in the art of cerebral defences.  
  
He ignored her; ~ "We must be...as one, for the union. So, there must be no resistance. Allow me and Catherine lives."~ He stood back up and sauntered back over to the chair and sat, as if trying to gain a position from which he could stare down at her from on-high. ~ "Deny me, and she will die now."~  
  
Ororo was left little choice...  
  
* * *  
  
Logan was dimly aware of the fact that he was moving; being pulled along in intermittent jerks. He could hear the scrapping of sand and feel the heels of his boots digging two parallel troughs in the dirt along his slow path to who knows where. For a moment his mind was in a mist; a fractured state of consciousness that could only piece together feelings which entered through physical sensations, namely pain. As his faculties gradually came back to him, he gained enough strength in order to suddenly throw his weight forwards, causing his supporter to lose their grasp that had been firmly lodged under both arms. Logan fell forwards onto his hands and knees as slowly the world around him came into some kind of conscionable state through the lingering shots of pain that ran across his midriff and the same point at his back.  
  
"Logan?...Wolverine, are you alright?...Wolverine?...Wolverine?..." He could hear a boy's voice; Bobby's voice somewhere to his right, echoing and distorted. Shaking his head he looked up. His vision was blurred and it took him a few seconds more to focus it. A dark yellowish brown wall appearing from the blur. But with its return other things conspired to pervade his mind also, the memory of the explosion, searing fire ripping through his entire body...no, something before that...Ororo being hit. It came to him clear as day now; the sight of her crashing into the wall, being taken from him by the men who ambushed them and with all this came a frightening rage that took hold like the most contagious fever. Bobby took a step closer to Logan but immediately took about three back as the man on the ground began to growl; a chilling sound that he'd never heard come from Wolverine with such intensity, such a vicious ferality. Deep and low, but infinitely menacing. He appeared to be trembling as he held his tense position on his hands and knees but Iceman soon realised that he wasn't trembling as such, more shaking with an unimaginable fury, his stance now appearing more like the crouch of a predator about to pounce. Instinctively, clear blue eyes wide with a justifiable fear, Bobby reached for the communicator that he was now thanking his lucky stars Cyclops had pointed out to him. Fumbling to grip it in cumbersome leather gloves, when he did find it, he flicked the button that sat in its centre and pulling it in the direction of his mouth although it was still attached to his uniform, he called, in an almost fearful whisper, "Cyclops this is Iceman--- can you here me?" There was a brief crackle, but not like your bog-standard communicator radio, the transmission was as clear as a bell as the X-Men's leader's voice answered.  
  
"Yes Iceman? Are you at the 'Bird yet?"  
  
A nervously worried grin came to Bobby's lips, "Urr...not quite."  
  
"Well get him there, now!" Scott sounded somewhat preoccupied; too busy concentrating on his own mission to answer what he presumed where Bobby's trifling concerns.  
  
"But, he's---." The transmission cut and Bobby realised he was going to have to deal with this situation all by himself. A completely terrifying prospect to say the least. Letting go of the sliver 'X', he watched as Logan began to rise, slowly at first, the pieces of the decimated upper half of his jump-suite hanging about him like tassels, although the arms remained fairly intact, the back was just as bad because the blast had gone straight through his body. But the now smooth, though still hairless skin that covered the previously damaged areas betrayed that anything had ever happened. "L-Logan, I think we should---." Too late. Wolverine had sprung from the floor with a tremendous roar and was down the corridor and away like a man possessed, ripping off the redundant sleeves of his uniform as he went. And Bobby had no choice but to follow despite the fact that all he really wanted to do was find a dark corner somewhere and curl up into a ball until all this was over! Down tunnel after tunnel he followed the older X-Man, retracing the same path that it had been such an effort to drag him along previously, for his weight had been utterly unbelievable. It was an effort just to keep up with him now, as he zoomed forwards, left, right, right and then left again; knowing exactly where he was going, sniffing the air from time to time. A tracker dog on a strong and definite scent.  
  
"Wolverine! Wait!" Bobby huffed and panted, picking up speed and getting closer all the time. "Wolverine, Cyclops said I should get you back to the Blackbird!" He got close enough to grab onto him and he did just that, taking hold of a lose chunk of leather near to the belt line to halt him; although for the life of him he couldn't think why as he received the only reaction to the gesture one could expect from a feral man on a single minded mission. Iceman found himself thrown unceremoniously to the floor with three sharp points not one centimetre from his face. As Wolverine loomed over him, still growling, a glint of madness in his hazel eyes that had grown dark, Bobby, ever the jester, managed to shrug his shoulders rather stiffly from his restricted position and quip, with a fear-induced chuckle, "Or maybe not!" Now that he thought about it, the guy was completely healed, why bother to follow Scott's orders now?  
  
Logan held his claws where they were for a little longer before drawing them, and his whole body back. To Bobby's surprise, he yanked him back to his feet in the process of straightening up with the grasp he had on the collar of the young X-Man's uniform. And he did this despite still being in the grip of this feverish rage that seemed to have overridden all rational faculties. Clearly, there was an amount of control still present. But then, without a word, Wolverine continued on his quest, leaving Bobby to follow him once more, this time willing to be guided in this change of plan.  
  
* * *  
  
Scott and Jean had just come to a large set of double doors that had two ridged pillars at either side of them, giving the distinct impression that this led to the hub of all activities. The doors themselves were adorned with various carvings and looked heavy. This seemed as good a place to look for Catherine as any other even though the Professor's last contact, a few minutes previous had failed to detect any presence yet again.  
  
"What do you think?" Scott asked, turning to Jean for a second opinion as to whether they should attempt to breach the doors or not. She only nodded, looking back up at the large hunks of wood.  
  
"They look like they need to be opened via mechanisms though." They both pondered this in silence for a moment.  
  
Then Scott asked, "Do'ya think I should blast them?" He turned his head to look at her once more.  
  
Still eyeing them curiously, Jean replied distractedly at the same time as sizing and weighting them up, "No, no...I think I can get them open." With that she readied herself, mentally and physically for the forthcoming excursion. Putting her hands up; the palms laid flat, vertically parallel with the doors that she wished to move, she concentrated on her telekinesis; feeling the very molecules of the wooden structure being pulled through the equally heavy particles of air as it rumbled in slow response to Jean's cerebral command. Gradually, the doors strained against their enforcements, edging outwards with tremendous creaking sounds, coming forwards and then relenting backwards with increasing speed, stirring up dust and grit from the floor. Jean felt the trickles of sweat running down her forehead as she willed the doors to give, knowing that only a few...more...nudges...With a sudden blast of splinters the doors did give; exploding outwards and causing both Jean and Cyclops to dive either side to avoid the debris. Once the dust and danger had cleared both X-Men looked up to the sight that lay before them through the opened doors; the most magnificent room they had ever seen. (That, unknown to them, was an exact replica of the room that Ororo had been brought to all those years ago. The same markings, the same eight pillars, the same throne...) They stood back up, brushing themselves off and completely enthralled by what they saw...until they realised that it was absolutely devoid of life. No Shadow King, no Storm, no Catherine, no guards, no nobody.  
  
"Where the hell is everybody?" Scott asked, pondering the question more to himself than Jean.  
  
But she did answer, though it was far from helpful or conclusive in anyway, "I-I don't know. I can tell Catherine's near...Ororo too." She sighed, exasperated and somewhat annoyed with herself that she couldn't quite pin- point them. "But...I can't tell where." Just as they were about to step forwards into the chamber they heard footsteps, beating footsteps, running footsteps that were becoming louder and louder, heading in their direction. Both Jean and Scott braced themselves, turning in the sound's direction, convinced that another attack was immanent. Only to be greeted by the sight of Logan rounding the corner, Bobby following not too far behind but looking red faced and considerably more exhausted than his hirsute companion.  
  
"Iceman! What is he doing here?!" Scott bellowed, shocked to see a so rejuvenated Wolverine, but not quite as angry as Bobby had expected him to be. Coming to a halt just as Logan did to sniff the air again; Iceman leant on his thighs in a hunched posture as he fought to catch his breath, pointing at Wolverine as he disappeared into the room beyond the destroyed doors. Jean and Cyclops followed him and Bobby was not far behind the pair.  
  
"I tried to stop him, but you know what he's like! He went crazy when he woke up, I tried to stop him!" He repeated as he came up behind Jean, looking at the surrounding chamber with the same momentary awe as they had. They all followed Logan's path forwards but stopped; they were about one quarter of the way into the space, while he had stopped halfway in, inspired to their halt by Wolverine's hesitancy after he'd seemed so determined before.  
  
"What is it Logan?" Jean asked, at that moment sensing an all too familiar presence but a presence changed in its essence somehow...  
  
Then in she came from some concealed entrance at the back of the hall; Ororo, more accurately Storm. Flying in on a wind more virulent than was necessary, so vicious in fact that as it reached the X-Men, all were nearly knocked off their feet. She made a terrifying yet stunning sight as she came close to them; the thing that struck them most initially being her new attire. On her head, gripped into her loose and wildly whipping silver mane, sat a golden tiara that peaked into an idol like figure of a lion and the similarly gold plate around her neck and shoulders had an unceasingly blinking pinkish light set into its centre like a LED on a remote control. She was bare from there down, the only other thing to cover her being a belt made of large interlinking loops that sat loosely about her curving hips, from the centre of which hung a strip of blue silk that ran down between her thighs, one at the back and one at the front. She looked every bit the Goddess that one would expect to see adorned upon the walls of the chamber, down to the thick lines of kohl that were marked heavily under and above her glowing eyes, continuing along until they curved upwards and downwards respectively across the sides of her face to meet at a point close to the top of each ear.  
  
"Oh my god..." Jean whispered from barely parted lips as she looked up at her best friend. But it wasn't her best friend, she could hardly detect Ororo Munroe at all---the Shadow King had infected her like a virus, body and soul. All she could sense from Storm now was a naked aggression that matched the fury of the weather that she had always tried so hard to contain. But not any more, for all inhibitions had been removed by the monster that now controlled her.  
  
"Ororo?" Logan called, his voice sounding almost human again although it still contained a growl, his concern for his wife had managed to override the prevalence of the animal inside.  
  
"I'm not Ororo." She stated, her voice seeming to echo in an unearthly manner. Flying closer to her former comrades, her eyes burning; white hot, she then bellowed, "I am Ka the Supreme Goddess!" With that Storm took to the rafters, small sparks of her lightening surrounding her like a force field. She looked down at them from her vantage point and readied herself for 'her' attack. The remaining X-Men sensed the danger and instantly. Through all of them ran the mixed emotions of knowing they would have to defend themselves from her but not being sure that they would be able to hurt her.  
  
"What do we do Scott?" Jean asked, no, pleaded with her partner for an answer, a way they could face this threat without bringing their beloved Ororo to harm.  
  
"Try to reach her Jean, try to get into her head and force her to fight the Shadow Kings control." But he knew that wouldn't be enough and added reluctantly, "In the mean time...we'll just have to defend ourselves the best we can." As he said this, Scott's hand came up to the control button at the side of his visor, making it clear what he meant by defending themselves.  
  
"NO!" Logan roared as he finally managed to take his painfully startled gaze from Ororo, turning on his heel and darting over to his leader. Wrenching Cyclops hand away from his lethal device, he raged, "You touch her an' it'll be you we're takin' back in a body bag bub!"  
  
Scott pulled his hand from Wolverine's grip, angry at him yes, but completely understanding his plight at the same time. If that where Jean up there...he shuddered to think. "Logan, I know how you feel, we love her too." His eyebrows knitted above his visor as he tried to make Logan understand. "He's taken over her mind and it looks like we're in a position where it's gonna be us or her---there's more at stake here. Imagine what this bastard could do to the world with Ororo's powers?"  
  
Logan didn't want to hear this, he turned to look back up at his wife, but noticed now that even her scent had changed somehow, tainted with the stain of that man. "Jeannie?" He turned to the telepath, but she shook her head ruefully.  
  
"I'm sorry Logan...his hold, it's...it's too strong." She looked up at Ororo as they all did. "Storm's slipping away second by second."  
  
"Pitiful fools!" Their rest bite for debate was apparently over and the time for battle had begun as a shower of lightening bolts rained down on the X-Men. Perhaps a warning shot only though, as Storm's usually accurate aim failed to touch a single one of them, but each of the four bolts did land perilously close, right at their feet in fact. They all jumped back, realising that next time they would not be so lucky.  
  
"FALL BACK!" Cyclops ordered his soldiers, "Behind the pillars!" They all moved to his command, save for Logan, who stood his ground, though he did find it difficult as the wind picked up once again, knocking statues that dotted the room to the ground.  
  
"'RO! PLEASE DARLIN', LISTEN TO ME!" He put his hand up to shield his eyes from the grit that was flying into his face, struggling to keep upright as the winds became stronger and stronger. "FIGHT HIM 'RO! I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT BABY! PLEASE TRY!"  
  
"LOGAN!" Jean called, peering around from the relative safety of the pillar, squinting in the face of the hurricane that the winds were becoming. "LOGAN, IT'S NO USE! GET BACK HERE, NOW!" But he refused her request, remaining where he was. Just then, Storm unleashed another bout of lightening bolts from the cloud that had now convened above her, one bolt landing so close that it sent Wolverine flying backwards through the air as it crashed into the floor beneath his feet. He came back down to the floor with a tremendous bang; adamantium frame connecting with the stone floor heavily. Cyclops instinctively ran from his cover to get to where Logan had fallen, noticing that the bolt hadn't actually made contact much to his relief for they were going to need all hands on deck for this battle, the last thing he needed was for Wolverine to be out for the count again. Grabbing at Logan's arm, Scott made an attempt to drag him to safety. But he was not so lucky as his teammate as another bolt came down, catching him in the arm and twisting him around several times like a spinning top.  
  
"SCOTT!" Jean screamed as Cyclops fell to the ground besides Logan, his arm badly seared, but the rest of him seemed mercifully untouched. Summoning her telekinetic will, she dragged Scott along the floor and behind her temporary refuge. "Oh my god, Scott! Are you O.K?" Once he was close enough, she pulled him to her manually, cupping his pain contorted face with her hands.  
  
"Yeah...yeah. Just about." Scott said unconvincingly before sucking in a sharp breath as the pain shot up through his badly burned arm, travelling around every nerve in his body.  
  
Bobby had seen enough, it was his time to act now. He didn't know whether it would do much good, but all he could do was try. So he came from around the pillar, opposite where Jean was cradling Scott in her arms and immediately sent the strongest jet of ice that he could muster upwards towards Ororo. The ice stream cut like a sharp knife through Storm's wind, knocking her backwards and momentarily cutting off her hail of lightening, which since the shot at Cyclops had ceased to stop. It halted her, but not for long as she flew back towards them until she was almost on top of them and there was no escape, no more hiding from her fury.  
  
"There is no use in resisting X-Men!" Her 'blinded' eyes bore down on them and it seemed she was ready to make her fatal shot when suddenly, without warning, the winds died down and her concentration was pulled to something unseen. All four X-Men looked up at her, frozen from action, waiting for the final assault, but it never came. ~ "Yes master!"~ None of them understood her Arabian dialect, but all rightly assumed that she had just received a telepathic order from her controller as they watched her retreat to the back of the room once more, taking the violence of her storm with her. Obviously, the Shadow King had proved his point to his satisfaction; he did indeed have total control over Ororo, to the extent that he could make her attack her closest friends and her husband without a second thought.  
  
They all watched as she disappeared back down the tunnel from which she'd emerged, a concealing wall falling back down to block its entrance as soon as she'd passed through. It was at that moment that Logan leapt back onto his feet, running towards the now solid wall, unsheathing his claws. "ORORO!" He growled as he came up to the offending block in his path, slashing at it wildly, but to no avail, he was only making the merest of chips in the extraordinarily thick brickwork. All he succeeded in doing was working himself up into another feral frenzy as he hacked and hacked and hacked...  
  
*  
  
In Cerebro...  
  
# Wolverine! Wolverine, it is no use! # Charles tried his best to get through to the wayward X-Man, but even a man as determined as him knew when to let it lie and let nature work itself out. Logan's mind was in too much of a fractured state again to respond to reason. He'd tire of it soon enough, when he realised that he had no hope of getting through that way.  
  
Xavier had been in complete contact with his X-Men the whole time and had even tried to help Jean in her effort to get through to Ororo's deeply submerged psyche. But the Shadow King was indeed more powerful than he'd imagined, and it seemed that Storm had given herself over so thoroughly that she was all but lost to them. In a strange way, Charles couldn't help but admire her self-sacrifice and in all honesty, he wouldn't have expected her to do anything other than hand herself over in order that Catherine would be protected, nobility was in her nature. But she didn't realise the magnitude of the consequences of her selfless act.  
  
He ran his thumb and index finger over his closed eyes, bringing them together at the bridge of his nose as his head drooped mournfully, the strain of the situation making it hard to keep the correct level of concentration. As Scott had remarked to Logan before the fight; if the Shadow King could maintain his control over the weather witch, the entire world would likely pay the price.  
  
-TBC- 


	11. ChapterEleven

Disclaimer: Don't own the X-Men, so don't sue.  
  
Thank-you everybody!  
  
Chapter.11.  
  
It was like some crazy dream. But if it was, it was definitely the most vivid and extraordinary dream Catherine had ever had. So much so that she wondered whether or not it was happening for real. She 'awoke' to find herself lay in the middle of a vast, open room. Pushing herself into a sitting position, Catherine put her fore arm underneath her hair that was hanging in her face, blocking her view and swooped it back over her scalp. Every sense she had was telling the young girl that the room she was in was real, solid, very much physically around her. But at the same time she felt that it wasn't, there was just something so...surreal about the atmosphere. It was bright and airy, like there was a large panoramic window that led to a stunningly expansive view around the corner, but still just out of sight. It certainly wasn't the closed off dungeon-like space that she remember passing out in. All Catherine could remember was after the headache she was struck down by had become so bad that she ceased to be able to focus anymore, someone had come into the room she was being held in. They'd fitted something, which she later discerned to be chains around her neck and the next thing she felt was being dragged until she was forced to get to her feet as being pulled along the rough floor was so painful. The last thing she remembered before the blackness was being in Ororo's lap, and despite the fact that she was too physically out of it to let her aunt know she was aware of her presence, just knowing she was there was a great comfort that had been to her, more than she'd ever know. After that point the swelling, consuming pain in her head had become too much for her to deal with and she'd summarily passed out.  
  
Now she had woken here in this place that seemed to exist and not all at once. It was so light and so clean; white walls, off-white floors. Finally she decided the only course of action would be to get up and look around. And so that was exactly what she did, absently brushing down her white robe as she stood, looking at her surroundings the whole time. When she walked, the bottom of her wicker sandals reverberated off the walls, making them sound hollow, box-like.  
  
~ "Hello?"~ She called out rather timidly, as if scared to break the silence of the space. The only answer coming to her in the form of her own voice being reflected back from the walls. Then she noticed that there was a corner at the far edge of the room that seemed to lead to an exit, an opening which so far had not revealed itself to Catherine obviously. Tentatively, the girl stepped toward the corner, peering around its edge coyly, not knowing what to expect. As her eyes slowly veered around the hard turn in the white plaster wall, sweat-damp fingers gripping to it almost compulsively, a door came into the view of her warm brown eyes that shimmered with nervous moister. It was an extremely ordinary looking door, plain, pine, the type one would expect to see in the most mundane of houses. But then again, wherever this place was that she now found herself situated in was particularly uninteresting to the eye in general.  
  
That was until she plucked up enough courage to venture forth and open that door. After several careful steps towards it, those self-same lucid hands that had clung with a quiet desperation to the corner of the room, taking hold of the sliver-finished door knob, hesitating for a moment before twisting it, revealing its wonders to unsuspecting, innocent eyes. The astral plane was a new experience for her...  
  
* * *  
  
Eventually, it became too much, even for him. The feral rage subsided and his exhausted frame collapsed to its knees, the sharp adamantium drawing back into his body slowly, as if reluctant to conceal themselves. One or two drops of crimson trickled down the back of his now slack hands; the tense fists they had been clenched in, folding out with the passing of his fury to hang limply at his sides. The cuts, the raw open wounds that came with the claws unsheathing, closed to make the skin of the hands, just in the nooks between the calloused nubs of his knuckles flawless once more. No trace of the weapons violent intrusion could be seen at all, after only a couple of seconds.  
  
"Logan, are you alright?" It was Bobby, again being forced into the position of being Logan's minder as Jean was busy bandaging Scott's arm with his own T-Shirt wore beneath his X-uniform.  
  
For a moment, Logan didn't answer, still flitting between rational thought and 'Wolverine' mode. But as Professor X had surmised, nature did take its course and the primal anger had siphoned off, leaving him physically exhausted yes, but also restoring him to some kind of coherent function, enabling him to calm down and actually think. The urge to attack the nearest person to him disappeared also as he turned to look at the genuinely concerned boy that stood behind him. Still panting frantically, Logan nodded at the young X-Man in confirmation that he was indeed alright, reassuring Iceman that he had nothing to fear from him unlike last time. Though, despite this he was still feeling the anger and a sense of failure almost, that he hadn't been able to protect or get through to Ororo when he'd called to her to fight the Shadow Kings presence within her. At this moment he'd never felt more useless in his entire life. "I'm fine Bobby." He managed to articulate as his breathing started to slow and he got to his feet. Turning from the unyielding wall to look past Bobby, Logan watched Jean as she wrapped Scott's charred flesh carefully. He'd all but forgotten that Cyclops had even been hit during the battle with Storm, and was genuinely relieved, in spite of their differences, that the man was alright after such a bad hit. "Can you try to contact 'Ro again Jean?" He shouted over to her.  
  
Still with her eyes concentrated on enveloping the last uncovered bit of her partners arm, Jean called back in answer, "I've tried already Logan...I can't get through. I'm sorry, but I can't."  
  
"Well try again!" He bellowed angrily as he strode over to the X-Men's resident field psychic. Stood right before her and Cyclops, he continued to rage, "I'm not giving up on her as easily as you seem to be prepared to. TRY AGAIN JEANNIE!"  
  
"She's doing her best Logan, lay off!" Scott retorted as loud as the pain that ran through him would allow.  
  
# Logan, Scott is right. # The Professor's telepathic voice was heard by all of them, as clear as if he were in the room with them. # Now is not the time for in-fighting Wolverine---Jean is trying, as am I, but the Shadow King's infiltration is just too strong to break right now...even for me.# None of them had any idea how much it hurt Charles to admit that he couldn't save his beloved Ororo, that his 'daughter' might possibly be beyond his help. But underneath his fear for her, he still had faith in Storm; faith in her strength, her determination, her spirit. # Listen carefully my X-Men, time is scarce; I can lead you to where Ororo has been taken, if you'll let me guide you?"  
  
"How far away is she?" Logan said aloud to the Professor, quite unnecessarily; a discreet thought would have done.  
  
# She's...she's deep within the catacomb now Logan...I can only trace her by the bare minimum of psychic residue, but as you get deeper, with Jean's help I'll be able to get a better lock on her.#  
  
#There's no need Professor, I think I can trace her by myself, it's just when we find her that I'm worried about---I'll need your help then.#  
  
# And what about Catherine? # Bobby was a fast learner after all.  
  
# She's fairly near Ororo physically at least, I can tell that much # There was a prolonged pause, in which none of the team moved a muscle, waiting tensely for their mentor to give them an order. # But her mind is somewhere else, off on a different plane...I fear she has inherited her father's gift. That is why we couldn't get to her earlier and why she kept on making such powerful contact with us---she doesn't know she has a form of telepathy almost as strong and aggressive as the Shadow King's#  
  
Tucking the last piece of the make-shift bandage safely in place, Jean asked, #Does he know she has his power?#  
  
#I believe not, or I'm sure he'd have already tried to make use of it--- I'll try to reach her Jean, now that I know what I'm up against. But that will mean you having to work on Storm without my help. But I fear we have no choice as she may be Ororo's only hope and your only hope of defeating the Shadow King.#  
  
#O. K Professor,# Scott said through strained tones as he pushed himself up with his good arm despite Jean trying to make him lie still. # You concentrate on that, we'll deal with the physical threat.#  
  
# Cyclops, you are in no fit state to do battle with at least a fifty strong unit of armed men!# Jean was about to confirm Charles's misgivings before Logan piped in with his support for One-Eye's plan of action. For once, these radically different men were singing from the same hymn sheet.  
  
# What else can we do Chuck? Sit around and wait while the psychics do their work. Fuck that!# Logan walked past Jean and his injured colleague toward the busted doors.  
  
"Where are you going Logan?!" Jean shouted as she watched him pass.  
  
Without looking back, forging ahead with a determined stride, Logan threw back, "What do'ya think Jeannie?---I'm goin' to find my wife and god help anyone who happens to get in my way." His statement of intent was perfectly clear as he spoke the words and simultaneously snapped out his claws with two synchronised flicks of his wrists. Bobby watched all this, still at the far end of the chamber, but he was certainly not in two minds about what to do. Buoyed by the fight with Storm, his confidence had grown immeasurably and so he followed Logan's lead, disappearing out of the room.  
  
Scott tried to get to his feet, but he was still so weak. "Scott, don't." Jean laid her hands on his shoulders, gently encouraging him to sit back on the ground. "You can't do this, your arm's in a real bad way."  
  
He took one of her hands off the shoulder of his damaged arm, holding it with a loving firmness. "Jean, I love you---you know that. I can't stand the thought of seeing you hurt---."  
  
"Me neither Scott! How do you think I felt when I saw that bolt hit you?" Jean fought to stop the tears that she knew were building from spilling forth.  
  
"I know, I know," He paused for a moment while he let go of her hand, then pushing both of his up into her hair, taking hold of either side of Jean's face. "But this is the life we've chosen to lead---our best friend is in trouble here. Being an X-Man means you're prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, no matter what." Jean nodded as she closed her eyes, but still one or two tears escaped to run down her cheeks, being stopped by he palms of Cyclops's gloves, pooling between them and her face. "I've got to carry on...for as long as I can at least.  
  
She continued to nod as she opened her eyes, releasing yet more tears from their red rims. Pulling away from Scott's hands, she then helped him get to his feet, knowing that he was trying to stop his discomfort from showing but not being particularly successful. "Are you sure you can do this Scott?"  
  
He nodded quickly in confirmation as his face became tight with a grimace once more, making him bite his lip. "I'll manage the pain Jean, don't worry about me---just try to get to 'Ro." With a little support from Jean just to steady his first few unsure steps they set off to follow their team mates into the heart of the tomb.  
  
* * *  
  
The chanting seemed to weave through the air along with the thick streams of incense smoke, creating a sensual web around the room. The servant girls walked into the main ceremonial chamber first, spreading blood red rose petals via liberal handfuls every time. They led the way in with slow, paced steps, coming closely behind them, the chanting priests, their leopard adornments still attached, concealing their eyes in deep shadow as the came forth with large metal ball hung on chain ropes, swaying them round in a measured manner so that the smoke that poured from them swam about them, enveloping them like dancing snakes. They all headed to the platform that was the focal point of the room's arrangement, containing as it did two golden thrones, melded meticulously and lined with red velvet. One of them was already occupied by its would-be monarch; the man in the blue silks. The others 'owner' came into the room now, behind the priests, more servant girls trailing her bearing gifts of various animals cut in wood and stone, images of the sacred spirits of the Nile. The Goddess still had eyes that glowed like diamonds shot through with the most divine light. Her minions of lightening continued to course around her, sparking from those 'diamond eyes' as her wind, all-be-it a greatly sated version, stirred her lose hair, that reflected its sliver qualities in the fire-light. As she neared her intended, the entourage parted to make way for her passing, so that she could kneel at his throne; the Goddess bowing to her God. Laying her hands flat on the sandstone steps, she lent forwards until her forehead came into contact with the ground. Muttering a tiding of servitude, she pulled back up, getting deftly to her bare feet as he extended his hand to her, lifting her up the steps. Dark, wide eyes that were marked with grotesquely dilated blood vessels made unwavering contact with white hot ones as she took her place next to him on the throne that seemed to have been made to fit for her down to the very last detail. Still linked at the hands the pair sat and awaited their date with fate...The head priest, whose covering leopard was of the black variety rather than the spotted, made his way along the path that had previously been trod by all those present. Coming to a halt before the thrones, he pulled out an aged book, bound in brown leather that looked like the skin of a sun-baked beggar. Prying its long-shut pages apart with an undue reverence to the appropriate pages, the High Priest began to utter the rights of a ritual that had not been spoken aloud for immemorial years, stirring a tempest, the likes of which had not been seen in this region since 'biblical' times...  
  
*  
  
Outside...  
  
The skies above were turbulent and fuller of anger than the most determined monsoon. A maddening wind wiped the sand up into a monstrous frenzy underneath a sky which burned in purple and scarlet swirls, black clouds drawing in, collecting over the top of this new mark on the landscape; a temple that looked as old as the ancients but had only existed for a blink of an eye. The dark masses that crackled with the strain of the electric energy that filled them to bursting point came to a rest above the makeshift pyramid. In a shattering display of nature's power, they let forth that lightening that nestled within their hearts as way above even these heavenly objects the stars shifted and planets rotated. And within the never ending cosmic shift, Mercury edged its way ever nearer to its alignment with Orion...  
  
* * *  
  
Jean and Cyclops had managed to catch up to there speedier team mates without to much trouble, but for them (and Bobby Drake), it was becoming much more difficult to see things down here and they were now relying on Wolverine to be their eyes as well as their ears. They had no real clue as to where about they, but they knew they were deep underground when the air became cold and heavy on the lungs, the damp that pervaded the atmosphere creating a crushing sensation in the chest. Moisture caught the glint of the small amount of light that flittered about the tunnel, high-lighting the wall every so often, making doorways, black hollow spaces apparent. As they were rushing past one soundlessly, as in the manner of the rest of their downward journey, Logan came to another of his abrupt stops.  
  
"What is it Logan?" Jean couldn't sense anything immediately; such was her concentration on the lingering threads of Ororo's mind. Logan showed his usual distain for answering when he was working on instinct; sniffing the air, an unusual odour came to him, unlike the guards or the incense that had hung thickly for a while now, only making itself obvious to his more sensitive nose.  
  
*SNIKT!*  
  
In a momentary flash of reflecting light, out came the claws, plunging into the door that he had stopped in front of, slicing the chunky lock off like it were melted butter and they hot knives. With a deft kick, the door smashed backwards into the room with such force it rebounded back forth, almost closing again. Pushing it nearly as roughly once again, Logan walked into the black room and after a seconds hesitancy, the other X-Men followed, trusting Wolverine's guidance. They couldn't see a thing; the room seemed empty to them until they heard a meek voice seek them out in the darkness.  
  
~ "Ca...Catherine?"~ It was a young man's voice. Cyclops, Wolverine, Iceman, stayed where they were, just inside the room. Jean was the only one to venture forth towards it.  
  
"Hello?" As she came closer to the sound, a form made itself out in the dark to meet her eyes, slumped in the corner. Now she realised she could hear his wispy breathing, the painfully slow up and down movement of his chest as barely open dark eyes concentrated on her approach.  
  
~ "Catherine?"~ He repeated before giving the most lacklustre cough imaginable, not through its weakness but his body's inability to cope with any action more strenuous.  
  
Jean took a split second to look into the boy's mind, and through that small glance determined all she needed to know. "We're here looking for Catherine---we can help you too, if you let us."  
  
"H-help?" Abdul struggled over the English word; although he knew the meaning of it, he was still a little unsure in his fatigued state.  
  
"Yes." Jean was crouched by the boy now, quickly assessing his body for any sign of serious injury. "We can help you. We can take you with us."  
  
"He'll slow us down." Wolverine's cold voice came from the dark that had swallowed the rest of the team. Jean's mouth fell open and she gave a quite sound of disbelief; she realised Logan was stressed right now but that was no reason for him to be so unfeeling or uncompassionate.  
  
"Logan! We can't just leave the boy here! For god's sake, what's wrong with you?!" She glared in Logan's general direction for a moment, before turning back to the boy, whose heavy eyelids were drifting closed.  
  
He growled slightly under his breath but Jean's stinging words made Logan stop and actually think; she was right of course, but he couldn't help his painfully overwhelming urge to get to Ororo as soon as was humanly possible. The thought of anything slowing them down caused him great concern; there were even moments when he was wishing that the others had stayed behind too. He knew that Scott was trying his best, but he was becoming rather cumbersome at times to say the least.  
  
"Come on Abdul; let's get you out of here." Jean said soothingly as she slid her arm under the young man's back, lifting his arm over her head and draping it over her shoulder whilst supporting it with a steady grip.  
  
Abdul had expressed a look of mild surprise when Jean had called him by his name as he hadn't once uttered it, but he presumed that if they knew of Catherine, then they must also have known he was here too---whoever his rescuers were. But he didn't care right now as he walked/was dragged towards the door; the figures he had only seen so far in silhouette against its backdrop becoming clear faces. They were all in leather uniforms, and even though Abdul didn't recognise them as being of any authority that he was aware of, they were being helpful and right now that was all that mattered. One of them, the youngest, slipped his arm around him in the same supportive manner as the red-haired woman as he neared the exit of his prison. He looked at his other two rescuers; one with a bloodied rag covering his entire arm and the other, who he imagined was the owner of the gruff voice he had heard a moment ago from the wild look of him, appeared to have been in a rather vicious fight, what remained of his leather uniform hanging from his upper body in absolute tatters. "Who...who are you?" He asked; his chest now thick with the wheeze that made every breath almost too much to bear.  
  
"Us?" Bobby couldn't help but smile lopsidedly as he and Jean followed Logan and Scott on their resumed journey with the boy resting via his arms over each of their shoulders. "We're the X-Men." His voice positively bristled with pride.  
  
* * *  
  
Twisted, grotesque and surreal...  
  
The landscape into which Catherine had stepped from that room of relative peace could be described as nothing else but; with its bleeding, pulsing façades, lumbering sets of stairs which led too nowhere and the god-awful rumbling, like a distant and angry creature was coming closer and closer and closer....  
  
"GARRRARGHHHHH!!" the horrendous sound echoed through the gravity defying space, with its dark contorted walls from somewhere behind her. Her head whipped round in its direction, damp hair clinging to her forehead as she searched out the corridor behind her, her breath shaking with fear. For a moment she stepped back to the wall in order to feel the reassuring comfort of having something solid behind her but soon jumped forwards again when she felt its oozing substance running down her back.  
  
~ "What is this place?"~ The girl whispered to herself as her eyes continued to roam, checking for this presence that appeared to be following her. But she thought it best to carry on moving, although she had no idea where she was heading and so far every time she opened a door, checked a side tunnel, she'd find a brick wall blocking her way, or a door behind the other one and then another behind that. Wherever Catherine now found herself, it was a real house of horrors. She took a couple of tentative steps towards the stair case that twisted its way most unsurely up the end of the tunnel and she hoped it wasn't just an illusion as the last set she'd tried to walk up had turned out to be. But her slow crawl towards them turned into an all-out sprint when she heard a deep growl come from the dark behind her.  
  
"Arrghhh!" With a piercing breathless scream, Catherine ran for the stairs, leaping up them two, sometimes three at a time. Coming to the steel door at the top, as she yanked it open, she prayed it wouldn't be another false exit, and to her relief it was not. Jumping through she slammed it back shut behind her with a bang that not only echoed but appeared to get louder as it rang off down the dark corridor that stretched out before her, not dissipating as it should have. But then again, nothing in this awful place seemed to obey nature. She ran and she ran and she ran, for all her worth but the passage she was now on seemed only to get longer the further down she reached.  
  
# Catherine! # She screamed out again but didn't stop running; her arms being to flay as she used them to propel herself onwards, white gown whipping up until it thrashed about her high knees. # Catherine! Do not be scared child! There is nothing following you! It is all an illusion! #  
  
Catherine didn't stop as she tried to block out the voice that never-the- less continued to try and reassure her, but the corridor...it just wouldn't end and there seemed to be no escaping the voice that surrounded her like a blanket. # Catherine, you must listen to me! My name is Charles Xavier and you are Ororo's only hope! # At that the girl did stop; leaning against the wall, which was mercifully free of any distasteful substances, to regain her breath. # Listen to me Catherine, whether you realise this or not, you have your father's power and you are currently the only one in any position to defeat him. #  
  
"What do you mean? Where am I?!" She cried out into the air, her fear finally getting the better of her as she began to weep. But she crushed it almost immediately, wiping angrily at the salty droplets that ran over her rounded cheeks with her dirty hands. A couple of traces of the grit where smeared down her face, looking almost like engrained tear-tracks.  
  
# You have entered the astral plane Catherine, without even realising. # Her face twisted in confusion, she had no idea what this disembodied voice was talking about. As she sank down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her hitched up knees, she feared she had lost her sanity altogether. # I appreciate that all this must seem beyond strange my child but this place is simply an illusion, a way for your physical senses to interoperate something which has no tangible form. There is no blood dripping from the walls, no monster following you; you must trust me. #  
  
"What are you talking about?!" Her voice was thick with tearful desperation now as she pulled herself tighter into a ball, burying her face into the small hollow created by her arms and knees.  
  
# This place will lead you to the answer---the key to defeating the Shadow King. #  
  
"If you know so much about it, why don't you fight him?!"  
  
# I wish I could Catherine, believe me. # He sighed ruefully, the sound sweeping down the hallway like a stiff autumn breeze shifting through dry leaves on the pavement. # But it appears that this is your fight, and your fight alone. All I can do is guide you so far and then the rest is up to you my child. #  
  
"And why should I?!" She screamed as she jumped up from the floor, her whole body suddenly gripped by an unexpected anger. "I wish I'd never found her! I wish I'd never gone to America at all!" If only she could have let things lie, she thought to herself regretfully for her anger was directed at herself also. She had brought this on everybody; Ororo, Abdul...she felt guilty as hell for causing all of this, but it was coming out as anger against everybody else.  
  
# Because you know that you have to! Ororo sacrificed for you; will you now do nothing to help her? #  
  
His words brought to mind what her father had told her before she'd fallen into this strange place, that all he wanted was to get his hands on her Aunt and from what Xavier had just said, she must have given herself to him in order to protect her. She was the one who'd gotten her into this mess; could she really just let her suffer now? No, of course she couldn't. If this was Catherine's chance to redeem herself for all the trouble she felt she had caused then she would do whatever was necessary to help. She was tired of being scared.  
  
"Tell me what to do and I will do it."  
  
# Follow the path and you will know...#  
  
* * *  
  
"There's at least twenty of 'em." Logan relayed quietly; he hadn't even rounded the corner to where the troop of guards were patrolling for his nose to pick up on that number of subtly different scents. He could even tell that the weapons they were sporting weren't the type that had been used to stun Ororo. They were the ones that were used for lethal force.  
  
"What's the plan of action then Cyclops?" Bobby joined the two older men near to the edge of the corridor after helping Jean set the young man Abdul down in a safe enclave.  
  
Scott edged to the corner just enough to get a glimpse of the force they were facing, determining quickly that they shouldn't be too much trouble. Creeping carefully back, absently checking the bandage on his injured arm as he went, he'd already decided how this threat should be handled and was ready to give his orders. "O. K. people, this is how we're gonna do this." He looked to Bobby and then to Logan to make sure he had their full attention. "Iceman, you take out the weapons on the nearest ten, I'll take out the guns on the remaining men."  
  
"An' what do I do while you're busy---disarming?" Logan didn't sound in the least bit convinced; he just wanted to bust some heads!  
  
Scott gave Logan a small knowing grin, "Any one left armed after the initial assault...it's up to you to deal with them."  
  
Logan returned the grin, "Sounds more like it bub!" He cracked the knuckles on either hand but resisted the over whelming urge to pop his claws---that could wait, well, for a little while longer at least.  
  
"And what do I do?" Jean sounded more than a little indignant at being left out of this more aggressive plan of action.  
  
"I thought you'd wanna put all your energy into getting through to 'Ro?"  
  
Jean walked past Scott, taking a look at the troops from the same sly vantage point as he had just moments ago. "Yes," She began, her head still at the corner, and then she turned to face her team mates. "But these guys are our problem first. I'll concentrate on that one once we're past this one."  
  
"Alright then, are we ready?" They all nodded in confirmation as they prepared to rush round the corner, all guns blazing as it were. Jean took one last glance over her shoulder to make sure that Abdul was O.K; he appeared to have passed out again like he had when they were carrying him, but maybe that was for the best. Anyway, there were more important things to concentrate on right now as the X-Men readied themselves for their third battle within the space of four hours.  
  
Cyclops moved and the others moved with him. There were startled shouts from the guards, shouts in Arabic dialect to protect the master and his soon-to-be-bride at all costs but the X-Men paid them no mind as Iceman and Cyclops pre-empted desperate trigger fingers; Bobby letting out a never ending horizontal stream of ice that solidified as soon as it hit the men's laser guns, fixing them fast to the men's hands.  
  
Scott's disabling of the weaponry had an altogether more devastating affect; as soon as his blinding optic blasts whizzed and fizzled through the air and connected with the hunks of metal, they simply exploded; taking off one or two hands here, sending chunks of sparking and smouldering metal into the faces of their bearers there. It wasn't his intention, but what had to be done had to be done; it was really quite simple. The men fell to the floor screaming and writhing, clutching at their injuries about the face and arms in unbelievable agony and those who were not so fortunate just slumped to floor, conceding to their deaths.  
  
Only six loin cloth-clad men had brains enough to dodge to the side of the surprise attack, immediately sending out a volley of electric blue beams that flew swiftly in the X-Men's direction. Jean was quick to act, putting up a shield as she had before, deflecting at least half of the shots back at the men but only one taking affect in the same manner; hitting the man that shot it square between the eyes, leaving a gaping smoking hole were once there was skull and brain. But this was Wolverine's time now, as he leapt in front of the stray shots that had found a way around Jean's telekinesis and were heading for the team. He took all six of them with his body, jerking this way and that as each shot in turn hit his left arm, upper chest, stomach, left leg, right arm and his chest once more; the final one knocking him to the ground at last.  
  
As soon as he was down Bobby released another, stronger ream of ice, knocking to the ground two of the still active guards. He then moved the ice stream, without breaking it, back to the men he had previously stopped, re-icing their constraints and in the process almost the rest of their entire bodies, just to make sure that they wouldn't be recovering any time soon. Wolverine got back up from the ground, almost completely healed already, but angry as hell, claws snapping out as he rushed towards the four remaining attackers. Before he got to them, a red optic beam flashed over his right shoulder, taking out one of the men, ripping his arms right off his body in fact. That only left three soldiers to feel the bite of razor sharp adamantium. Their weapons, which had resumed pumping Wolverine with searing shots of condensed matter, were the first to go, being sliced and diced in seconds with two swift swipes. He could have left it at that; the men were now unarmed and technically no longer a threat, but he was beyond that---and the rest of the team knew it. They looked on with a reluctant acceptance as Logan ripped into the men in a blaze of adamantium fury, blood spurting everywhere as he slashed with a wildness that never- the-less seemed to have some kind of precision about it. His moves were definitely trained somewhere along the line, but his feral side over ruled it, and when he fought it was as if these two sides of his nature vied for control. The side that remembered some past expertise in the art of fighting invariably losing out. He only stopped when there was no longer anything left to cut into; crouching again, like an animal awaiting a further attack, blood dripped from his body, briefly some his own, but most of it being his victims.  
  
"Logan---we're clear." The Wolverine shrank back into the dark place of his mind that it inhabited, always waiting for its opportunity to break free because it was only when Scott spoke that he realised the battle was won.  
  
"Right." He cleared his gravelly throat as he gained his composure once more; claws snapped back in with a neat click. Wiping at the blood and sweat that stained his face with his fore arm, Logan looked up at the door they'd just cleared a path to and through the various odours that were now becoming clear to him over the blood and abject fear that hung in the air, was the changed scent of Storm. But there was still enough of the scent that was familiar to him, the scent that with its merest detection could fill his heart fit to bursting with the emotions it made him feel.  
  
Scott, Jean and Bobby came up to stand at either side of him; the faint sound of chanting came from behind the door that was considerably smaller than the one that had opened onto the larger chamber. It was almost of an ordinary size and so without waiting for Cyclops order to move, Logan kicked it in and they all followed him through.  
  
*  
  
~ "What is the meaning of this?!"~ The Shadow King stood bolt upright from his throne, as the High Priest that had been intoning the first stage of the ancient rights stopped the proceedings. The King couldn't see the intruders at first through the flurry of people that ran this way and that, blocking them from his sight. But when the way was clear and he caught sight of the people he thought would have been easily dealt with by the troops outside, he was far from happy. Especially as there weren't many armed men left in here to fight them.  
  
"Sorry bub, we interrupting somethin'?" *SNIKT!*  
  
-To Be Concluded- 


	12. ChapterTwelve

Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
Chapter.12.  
  
~ "GET THEM!"~ The thirty guards that remained in the small chamber responded to the orders with obedient haste; letting rip with their laser guns but where once again met with an exchange more than worthy, not a single shot taking affect on anything more than the hieroglyphic covered walls and three unfortunate serving girls who collapsed wailing to the floor. Where as the Shadow King lost six of his increasingly dwindling protection through three well-placed optic blasts, a particularly effective blast of ice and two unfortunate decapitations via adamantium. On viewing this and their several abortive attempts to get around a strong telekinetic wall there after, he decided that seen as his secret weapon had been so effective the last time round, maybe he should deploy her again.  
  
~ "KA!"~ Ororo, who had so far descried the battle with a zombie's indifference, stood at her 'masters' side. Her body was now his, and so as he willed her to take flight, she summoned a breeze to do just that. But because the room was so much smaller, at least half the size of the main chamber that sat many layers above, it didn't afford her much room for manoeuvre and soon all those present felt the force of the draft, even the Shadow King found it difficult to maintain his balance; gripping his bony fingers around the arms of his throne. Bobby and Jean looked desperately to Scott for direction; a clue as to what stance they should now take, whilst Wolverine continued to do battle with their aggressors for a moment or two longer, the feral rage coming dangerously close to the surface yet again. But he contrived to reign himself in this time, there was to much at stake for him to lose his rag, Ororo's life and many more perhaps, rested on his and the X-Men's shoulders this night; a responsibility that over the past few years was becoming ever increasing.  
  
The respite for thought was agonisingly brief though, as they had to continue to fight off the Shadow Kings forces for he commanded Ororo's will to create a bubbling typhoon at the low ceiling.  
  
~ "Destroy them!"~ He yelled above the din of the battle; he didn't care how many of his own people were killed when he ordered her to unleash it, as long as the X-Men were finished. As long as the High Priest (who was currently cowering behind Storm's throne) he and 'Ka' were left in tact then it didn't matter who else survived the deluge. And deluge was an apt description, for that was what it was when the storm crashed down on them amid thunderous noise; an absolute down pour ensued accompanied by several bolts of forked lightening and then hailstones the size of golf balls as the atmospheric pressure began to dip.  
  
The room erupted into a frenzy of destruction that had all the hallmarks of a biblical disaster. Apart from the casualties from the lightening others were smashed through walls left right and centre by the hurricane force wind hat momentarily ripped across the room. Among the victims of this last assault were Iceman, Wolverine and Cyclops; sent flying backwards out of the room through what was once the wall that held the main entrance but was now no more than a gapping hole above a pile of rubble. Jean didn't have chance to check if they were alright physically, she only had time to ascertain that they were still emitting active brain waves; which they all were, albeit the waves of currently unconscious minds. So it was up to her to face this alone for now. Trying to make contact with Ororo was useless; the Shadow King was infinitely stronger than her own meagre telepathy in comparison. She had to approach this from her strongest angle and that was currently her telekinesis. And in a flash of inspiration---Jean knew exactly how to use it.  
  
Pushing herself up from behind a fallen statue of some Egyptian god where she had taken shelter when her team mates had been blown from the room, Jean concentrated on grasping the opulent energy that flowed around the space thanks to Ororo's storm that although was dying down, still created enough excess energy to bolster Jean's force field tenfold. Once she was satisfied that she had reigned enough of it in, Jean jumped up from behind the fallen Seth; her arms raised and pointing forwards she could feel the solidity of a stream of telekinetic energy flow from her outstretched hands. As it reached Ororo, Jean spread her arms outwards to coincide with the expanding of the field, which had now become visible to a degree. Ororo looked confused for a second, showing the first modicum of human emotion since the Shadow King possessed her, before Jean folded her arms in as if encircling someone and her telekinesis did just that; creating a bubble around Storm, cocooning her inside shell of matter and energy, made twice as strong by Jean manipulation of the weather witches own elements.  
  
~ "NO!" ~ She screamed; the cry sounding far off from within her prison. Her naked limbs flung outwards in her mid air suspension, lightening surrounding her, trapped inside also. She tried to create a wind, only to find it somehow encased. But this didn't stop her from persisting; and Jean knew the effect of this new experiment would only last for so long. The red head was feeling the unbearable strain already pushing her to breaking point; she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold her.  
  
* * *  
  
On the astral plane...  
  
Another door...when would this end? Catherine was alone again now, apparently, the short 'prep talk' with the Professor was all the external help she was going to receive; it was up to her now. Sighing in frustration, she pushed angrily at the relatively plain looking door that was before her. But despite the fierceness with which she'd tried to open the door, the bulk of wood crept open slowly like it had been hit by the softest of drafts. As it swung lazily inwards, the look of bitter weariness that was increasingly ingraining itself on Catherine's pretty features, smoothed out into one of mystified wonder. Through the ever widening crack in the space between its frame and the actual door, a wide and lofty corridor appeared. Bright, polished floors reflected the subtle light of a sunny afternoon; blistering hot sun, that tried to set the hallway ablaze from a series of floor to ceiling windows at the left hand side. But the sun was denied by a well placed sloping roof, the underside of which could be glimpsed from the large panes of glass. Once the door had opened enough to fit through, Catherine stepped into the wide corridor, glancing outside to see a sandy courtyard; a courtyard that seemed to Catherine odd when it was empty because she had only ever seen it bristling with life and screaming and laughter. A tentative smile came to her lips; it came there because Catherine recognised this place. At last, after the horror and oddity of the last hour; wondering through scenes more befitting the most ghoulish of horror films, she knew where she was. It was her home, the only place which she had ever been able to call home anyway; the orphanage.  
  
Taking her attention away from the unnervingly eerie sight of the ghostly courtyard, Catherine looked down to the end of the hall; it was the large doors that protected the entrance of the orphanage, except, there seemed to be no small access door to the left hand side. She remembered; when they were very small, she and Abdul would sit at the end of this corridor and just stare at that small door. The portal to the outside world. Sometimes they would talk about making a run for it, waiting until one of the nuns came in from the food run, or when prospective parents, usually childless westerners, would come to check over what was on offer, they'd plot to run to freedom. Past the nuns, past the bewildered rich couples and into the blinding light that lay beyond, into the void...But mostly they and some of the other children would wait for more of their kind to come through. What poor unfortunates had fate tossed here this time, they would wonder. This door had become a kind of focal point for all the children; it was where everything came from and where everything left...  
  
And Catherine was running for it, her pace was nothing more than a jog at first; wide brown eyes trained on the prize but as she neared it her pace sped up, the hollow slaps of her sandals resounded about the corridor, turning into a frantic tribal beat as she began to run. Faster and faster and faster, getting ever closer. There was a creak that started low and then rose, louder and louder and as Catherine got nearer the doors opened themselves to her, that blinding white light, the sun being let into shade. And she ran towards it now, she ran like she'd never run before, her flimsy footwear flying from her peddling feet. She could feel it now, the warmth, beckoning her to come to it, welcoming her with open arms. The corridor was flooded completely by the light as finally the barriers were as wide as they could go and with her eyes shut and tears that defied any emotional categorisation, streamed backwards along her face, made to flow horizontally by the speed of her pace, Catherine flung herself, body and soul into the white opening...  
  
*  
  
She awoke from the void sobbing for joy, back on the plinth where she remembered being last; the room almost pitch black as the torches had almost burnt themselves out. Sitting up, still shaking with the last of her revelatory cries, Catherine wiped at the tears that she had shed in the real world as well as the cerebral. She slipped off the edge of the slab of stone, noticing that the sandals and robe she had worn on the astral plain where on her here. Giving herself a moment to get orientated, she realised that the Professor was right; the answer had been within her all along and she knew what she had to do. Tired of being scared, tried of being at the mercy of other, Catherine set off to confront her father.  
  
* * *  
  
"Stop wasting my time, you fool!" The Shadow King was becoming agitated, the time was almost at hand for the alignment and if he missed it, there would not be another chance, not in this lifetime anyway. He attempted a quick mind blast, fully aware that it would only have a small effect. But he was certainly angered when his plan appeared to bear no fruit what-so- ever.  
  
"I might not be as strong as you in the telepathy department," Jean scoffed in a strained voice, as she continued to struggle with her slipping entombment of the possessed Ororo. "But I can damn well hold my own when I need to!"  
  
"Yer not on yer own Jeannie." Jean dared not turn her head back as she heard Logan coughing and moving about in the rubble behind her. "Bobby?" Logan climbed over a large chunk of debris to get to the face down Iceman, all the while fearing the worst for the young X-Man. But his keen eyes caught the first few twitches of a returning consciousness and keen ears the murmured moans. "Hey, Bobby---wake up!" As Logan got to his side, he gripped at the torn collar of Iceman's uniform, pulling him over. He made a few more small moans, his face creasing like he'd just been woken up for class and the last thing he wanted was to get out of bed. But he didn't exactly have much of a choice here! "Iceman, get it together NOW!" Logan gripped the collar at the front now, yanking Bobby into a sitting position. His eyelids fluttered open to reveal his Cerulean blue irises; the first thing to come into focus, and not for the first time tonight, Wolverine's irate face.  
  
"O.K! I'm up." Bobby's eyes squinted into narrow slits as he tried to clear the fuzz in his head. He watched Logan disappear off over the crumbled wall back into the room and then remembered that Ororo had practically K.O'd them again and wasn't looking forwards to the fact that he was going to have to clamour over that wall and face her for a third time. As he struggled to his feet, fighting for balance on the uneven carpet of destroyed brickwork, Bobby spied Cyclops to his right; he was sat up and at a quick glance seemed to be O.K. But just as he was about to lever himself over, Bobby noticed that the T-Shirt that covered Scott's earlier injury was soaked in blood and exposing a large area of the burnt limb. "Scott--- Jesus! You O.K. man?" It was obvious he was biting at the inside of his lip to keep a check on the pain, but he gave a short vigorous nod in the affirmative anyway. "My ass you are!" Bobby laughed sympathetically as he crouched down by Scott to look at the wound. "Shit Cyclops, this is gettin' worse---you can't fight like this." His brow creased as he inspected the arm closer, trying not to let the horror he felt at seeing it consume his face completely; it wouldn't exactly give Scott too much hope!  
  
"You can both stay here," Both men's heads whipped round in the direction of the female voice that came from somewhere just out of sight. "This isn't your fight." Catherine came around the corner like a spectral vision; white flowing gown, caramel brown face crowned by two swaths of dishevelled white hair, hanging down either side of her head. They stared speechless as their eyes followed her path through a gaping hole in the wall and into the chamber. The girl they had both met briefly all of two days ago appeared transformed; no longer a shy, nervous child, she cut a confident figure. Even her voice seemed to have aged, carrying a sagely, regal air---just the way Ororo's did when she became Storm...Somehow, this change bade them to do as she told them, and they stayed precisely where they were.  
  
*  
  
"Enough of this!" Whilst pushing Ororo's powers to the limit (the limit of what he could do with them at any rate) the Shadow King made toward Jean, intent on a physical attack where a mental one had failed. He was stopped in his tracks when he saw Wolverine leap over then wall and rush towards him; claws snapping out, eyes lit with a fury that could only have originated in Hades itself. But the King did not feel threatened and certainly was not frightened. The mind jolt may not have worked on Jean, but surely it would work on this man who was in truth little more than an animal?  
  
The Shadow Kings eyes were veiled with that far off look for just a second as he levered for entrance into Wolverine's mind---entrance that was suddenly non-forthcoming. Logan smiled at the bewildered horror that took the King's face; a crocked grin that had something of a sinister quality to it. "What's the matter bub? Havin' trouble gettin inta my noggin'?" He tapped the side of his head mockingly as he came to a stop not half a metre away from his enemy. He'd felt that vomit-inducing 'hand' creeping around the back of his skull but this time he was more than prepared. The Professor's insistence on teaching all of his X-Men cerebral defence lessons had paid off after all. But just as he was readying to make a fatal strike, which he knew he'd better do quickly because it wouldn't take to log for him to worm his way around Logan's very basic psychic circuit breakers, he heard two voices telling him, "NO!"  
  
It was Jean and Catherine. Logan glowered at them both alternatively, his fist still raised, claws ready and waiting to plunge deep into the Shadow King's chest. The vile being started to laugh, making Logan turn his scowl back to face him. "What the freak are you laughin' about?" He seethed, pressing the claws to the emaciated man's breast, cutting the skin just enough to draw blood; the substance looked like a black ink mark as it appeared in three slowly spreading dots through the blue silk of his robe.  
  
He looked down at the wounds and the weapons that were still making contact with the skin at the point where the heart lay. His face stiffened as he moved his bulging gaze up to meet Logan's equally terrifying one. "If you kill me---you'll kill Ororo as well."  
  
"Bullshit!" Logan growled defiantly.  
  
"No Logan, it's---it's true!" Jean had gone past breaking point and was now fighting to stay conscious as she continued to keep Ororo in stasis; the job still being beyond tough despite Storm having calmed down somewhat now that the King's concentration was divided. "Their mind's are linked---if you kill him, he'll---he'll drag 'Ro down with him---AHHH!" Finally Jean caved, falling to the ground on her hands and knees, unable to support herself even then she collapsed to the ground completely. Ororo plummeted to the ground like a pheasant connected with a rifle bullet. She wasn't that high up and the fall wouldn't have done too much damage but Wolverine dashed to catch her out of instinct; just about reaching her in time, but they both crashed to the ground anyway. Logan rolled, cradling his wife to him and bearing the brunt of her impact, his back slamming painfully into the ground, metal spin contacting with the edge of the steps at the throne end of the room. But as always, his own pain was the least of his concerns as he sat up and pulled Ororo back a little. Her head flopped back and her eyes where heavily lidded in semi-consciousness; clearly her power display had exhausted her and so for now she was sated. But who knew who long for? Logan looked around his immediate vicinity, spotting a length of ruddy coloured velvet that ran at the foot of the thrones; he snatched it up and wrapped Ororo in it like a blanket. Then forgetting himself for a moment and this horrid situation he pulled her to him closer, pulling the tiara from her hair and tossing it away with obvious disgust; he smoothed her hair back and planted a kiss on her forehead, his eyes squeezed shut.  
  
And so away from Logan and Ororo, the end game began...but none would have thought it would be over so quickly, neither would they have thought it would have entailed these two particular players.  
  
~ "Catherine---I see you have rejoined the land of the living."~ His words were utterly without emotion---good or bad, it was more a statement of fact. But there was something more to it than that Catherine realised as she walked slowly further into the room. She eyed her father with something like a spiteful pity as she realised the tone in his voice was dejection.  
  
~"Something the matter---'father'?"~ It sounded like an insult.  
  
The King didn't answer her, he simply tipped his head slowly back to face heavenwards, aware that at this exact moment Mercury was making its final few steps to the perfect point and the time of the Prophecy had all but passed. He could see in his minds eye, the sky atop of the temple fading into the natural black of a starless night, the storm-clouds that heralded the beginning of a new age dispersing harmlessly away. And this thought filled him with an utter rage that rose from his depths, a lifetime of plans carefully cultivated, turned to ashes. The first time with Karima had been a mishap, he'd been saved really, from carrying the mistake too far, but this time, he was so certain it would come to pass, so utterly certain...but he'd been thwarted once again. The impotence of this situation created a rage in him that he could barely withstand...so they would all pay.  
  
~ "Will we indeed?"~  
  
~ "What?!"~  
  
~ "Pay."~ Catherine intoned darkly.  
  
The King's head snapped back down, and he glared at his ill-begotten daughter, when suddenly he realised what she'd done. ~ "But you---you can not have, you---."~ He questioned with a subtle cautiousness.  
  
~ "I can and I did."~ Catherine said coldly as she stepped closer and closer to him, finding her way across the crumbled brick and fallen idols with ease. ~ "And you will release Ororo, now!"~  
  
~ "Will I?!"~ The Shadow King scoffed, ~ "I don't think I will, in fact..."~ At this point he turned to where Logan still held a now murmuring Weather Witch in his arms. ~ "Seen as there is no longer any point in her existence..."~  
  
"ARRGH---AHHHHHHH!" Ororo cried out and her back arched in a spasm as if she were in the contortions of severe pain. Logan tried to hold her but she jerked again so violently that he couldn't keep a hold of her and she fell to the ground, still wrapped in the velvet cloth. Her eyes rolled back and she started to convulse as if in a fit.  
  
"DO SOMETHING!" Logan shouted at Jean, Catherine, the Professor, if he was still with them---anyone who was listening. He felt a violent rage at his inability to do anything to help her. He didn't want to grab her and try to make her still lest he make it worse, but he couldn't just watch her agony as streams of blood started to trickle from her nostrils and more worryingly from her ears.  
  
~ "You will stop this---YOU WILL STOP THIS NOW!"~ Catherine bellowed. It would be impossible to really describe what actually happened at this point, Logan nor Jean, nor Scott or Bobby, who at Logan's shout had seen fit to come into the room, but remained at its edge none-the-less, could understand how she did it. All they knew was what they saw, and that was the Shadow King spinning around to face his daughter, and the look of smug cruelty dropped from his features. They locked in an intense exchange of stares for an age during which, mercifully, Ororo ceased to fit, laying still at last, passed out. Then, through this solid deadlock, the Shadow King began to tremble, minutely at first, and then quite visible shakes. Catherine's hands balled into fists at her sides, so tight that the knuckles turned white. The shakes became increasingly violent as foam appeared at the corners of the once great telepaths mouth; it seemed Catherine was merely giving him a dose of his own medicine. His eyes rolled back, as they were apt to do when under psychic attack, and his entire frame flopped to its knees as the froth that had come to his mouth began to spurt out with disgusting jerking noises. Slowly his mouth gaped open as if he were in abject terror, a terror so horrifying that he could no longer form even noises for it and he fell forwards onto his face with a dull thump.  
  
The confounded X-Men looked at Catherine in something like awe; save for Logan who had Ororo in his arms once more and was carrying her towards the exit of the room. But everyone else stood there, as if frozen amid the destruction and limp bodies that had been drained of all life. Jean got up clumsily from the ground having regained her bearings, though she winced at the action; the great stress on her joints hitting her full force now.  
  
"Catherine?" The red head stepped carefully over all objects in her path as she made up the short distance between them. Coming at the young girl from behind, Jean laid her hands on her small but rounded shoulders, repeating softly whilst viewing her curiously blank face from an awkward side angle, "Catherine?"  
  
The girl made an odd choked sound; somewhere between a strangled cough and a sob and in the tenebrous glow of the last remaining fires Jean saw a single tear glide effortlessly down a smooth curving cheek. "I saw..."  
  
"What?" Jean barely heard the words.  
  
Almost repeating the odd sound, Catherine cleared her throat and restated, louder, "I---I saw into him---I saw...everything." The last word came through in no more than a shuddered whisper. Jean didn't say anything, she only squeezed the girls shoulders as a sign of comfort; she couldn't think of what horrors the poor child had glimpsed in that fiends cruel and twisted mind. The only comfort being that she could no longer sense hider nor hair of the man, suggesting to her that Catherine had somehow contrived to banish him to the astral plane. Quiet how she had come about the knowledge and skill to do that for now remained a mystery; the time for questions such as that would come later. Right now, there were injured X- Men to attend to and civilians to get to safety.  
  
"Come on Catherine, let's get you out of here." She turned the girl from her morbid study of her dead 'father' to face her and with a warm smile, informed her, "Abdul's in the hall---we put him somewhere safe."  
  
Those words seemed to snap her from the dazed state she appeared to be gradually slipping into, and a flash of joy and relief lit up her face with more candela than a thousand moons in their fullness. "Abdul!" She exclaimed breathlessly and ran toward the corridor that Wolverine carrying Storm and the others had long since headed for. Jean one last glance around the room, and down at the vile being; he was gone...but no one, least of all her could be sure how long for. Unpredictable threats? That was what the X-Men lived for...Not giving it another thought, she followed the rest from the room, relieved that they'd all survived...just.  
  
*  
  
"Lo...?"  
  
"I'm here darlin'---just rest---just sleep." His voice came to Ororo like it was at the far end of an underground tunnel...but that didn't tally with the soft, cool breeze she felt caressing her face; the wafting noise of a slight wind in the open air. She tried to pry her eyes open, no easy task when ones eyelids felt the weight of lead. "Darlin', rest---don't try to wake up." But after a brief exertion, her lids did open; onto an early morning sky that still contained last nights stars but also the encroaching light of a new day low on the horizon and suddenly that slight breeze became stiff.  
  
"Put me down." Ororo commanded meekly at first, but when her request was ignored, she reiterated more forcefully, "Put me down!" As she began to move in his sure hold, Logan had little choice but to concede to her demand.  
  
"Wait up a minute." Logan called to the rest of the group, who were now near the foot of the Blackbird and almost ready to board, as he set Ororo down on the sand that stirred briskly in the increasing breeze. They all stopped; puzzled as to why he had but then noticing that Storm had awoken. They watched as she scrambled to her feet, clasping at the makeshift cover around her, turning down to look at the Mastaba.  
  
Logan stood close behind her as she looked down at the structure and it gave her a certain sense of comfort to have him close but she knew it was up to her to put the final full stop on this nightmare. After the Shadow King's final, spiteful attack on her, Ororo had truly thought she would die; she felt as if her mind were being pulled apart from the inside out. And just at the point that she thought the fatal moment would arrive, Catherine had been there and all else ceased to matter. If she had died at that time, she would have died with the knowledge that her niece had over come the monster that was her father. She didn't know how Catherine had come to be their but she did know that she had saved her life; pulling the King from her consciousness with an ease that she doubted even the Professor could manage. And so, from the time she had regained consciousness in her husband's arms Ororo knew her to be safe but there was still unfinished business here. Storm stood at the top of the incline, her hair whipping in the wind, a wind which to Logan at least, was obviously not of natural causes.  
  
"'Ro, come on. We need to get you checked out---there isn't time for this." He gazed with concern at the now dried stream of blood that had flowed from her ears and had now stained her hair just below them, turning it a mucky shade of pink.  
  
He knew what she was planning, he just knew.  
  
"Logan, I have to---you don't understand." Ororo said as she continued to stare down at the pyramid. This was her opportunity to close the chapter, put away memories of old. Behind them, the others sensed this wasn't their place to be and so they made their way on board the super sonic jet to give the pair space.  
  
"You're wrong darlin'." Logan replied earnestly, stepping closer to his wife. "I know exactly how it feels to need to finish something---to shut a part of your past off." He gripped at her arms tenderly to turn her to face him, "But yer not up to doing this right now."  
  
Ororo just about managed to smile at him, she appreciated his concern but her mind was made up. She didn't care if she wasn't physically up to the task; it was something that needed to be done for the sake of her sanity. Logan got the message as he felt the static in the air just a fraction of a second before her eyes flooded with an 'incandescent' white. He stepped away, realising that Ororo's will was set, and she would destroy the tomb...even if it killed her. Turning back to face her target, Ororo spread her arms beneath the velvet, and the wind howled; the skies above turned black. The power that was flooding through her exhausted body burned; it was sapping every last bit of life in her but still the Weather Witch continued; concocting a ball of lightening so fierce as to destroy every last piece of brick and mortar that the building was constructed from, Storm held the tempest in place above it. Through her mind flashed the images of her family, just like they had on her first confrontation with the Shadow King, before she'd 'killed' him. But they were of a more positive nature this time for she had found so much to live for, and so this would be her chance to say a true goodbye to them and her past. With that 'prayer' on her lips, Ororo let go, feeling like every spark from the lightening, every ounce of energy in the wind was being pulled from her, and as she cried out with its force tearing her apart, the storm erupted into the Mastaba, exploding the whole kit and caboodle. She screamed and she screamed as the temple became nothing more than a pile of rubble, unable to let go of the fire inside her until she had no choice and her body decided for her. There was simply nothing left to give...  
  
~The epilogue~ 


	13. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Don't own any of Marvel's lovely mutants, but thanks for not suing me thus far!  
  
Thank-you very much for all the reviews and suggestions that have been given through-out for this, my first action/adventure fic. You have all been tremendous support for me and made this story a joy to write. A big thank-you also, to ALL of my readers. Loads-a-luv, M'ikosan-7, xxx  
  
The Epilogue.  
  
The wind was blustery, the Cedar trees that lined the back of the Xavier Institute swayed back and forth in the force, causing a rustling, whistling sound to fill the air. The sky was oppressively grey and miserable, and the first few spits of rain made themselves present on the window of the greenhouse as the long, bending branches of a near-by Oak knocked on the glass roof of the house with an annoying regularity.  
  
Ororo looked up at the offending tree, frowning at it briefly before turning her attention back down to collecting a few sprigs of rosemary for dinner, nipping carefully at the ends of the stalks with the kitchen scissors. Although she wouldn't be partaking in the lamb herself, she still insisted on cooking it correctly, with the right herbs, for everybody else at the mansion. Losing herself in the undertaking, and with the constant noise of nature made ten times louder by the expanse of the glass house, she didn't hear the doors open at the far end of the plant sanctum, nor his light footsteps as he crept towards her, intent on surprising her. He stared at her back, the white waterfall of her hair against the black of her cardigan, with a stalker's intensity, never faltering his attention from the prize. Slow and thoughtful were his movements, although, in truth, they were not the least bit thoughtful, more over they were completely instinctual, as at ease with his natural state as breathing.  
  
He was close to her now; the glorious scent of her thick and comforting beyond belief. For a while, he didn't think he'd ever have that comfort ever again, and it scared him, it really did. The past two months that had gone by since the Shadow King incident, had been a strange time for Logan. He hadn't wanted to leave Ororo's side at all, not even for a second, the fear that he had felt at loosing her had been so great. The whole situation had proved to him, if proof were needed, just how much she meant to him, just how much Ororo Munroe really was his entire life. For after so long with nothing to find something so divine was nothing short of a miracle; that was something he was certain of. He'd come so close to losing her, he didn't want to risk it again, ever. But as she, and others had rightly pointed out to him, Ororo was a fighter, she was a survivor, but most importantly she was an X-Man and that meant she would sacrifice everything to help others, especially those she loved dearly. And so her husband now realised (although, deep down he'd known all along), that that aspect of her was what made him love her dearly, her big heartedness, her unwavering courage in the face of danger. In fact, he suspected she was braver than even he, for whilst he had his mutant ability to rely on to bring him back from the brink, she had no such safety net, she sustained on pure guile alone. Thus, what Logan had learned predominantly, what had become clear to him above all else from their recent brush with danger, was that he respected his wife more than anyone else in the world. Literally, what hadn't killed them had only made them stronger...  
  
"You're really not getting much better at this are you my love?!" She'd only just noticed his presence but her natural calm made it seem she'd known he was there the whole time!  
  
"Apparently not....at least when it comes to you." He thought he'd got her that time, but as always, she was two steps ahead. It made him wonder if she didn't have senses as keen as his own at times! As he came close to her, Ororo turned around to face her husband, beaming him that beautiful, bright, honeyed smile that always made his heart skip a beat. Wrapping his arms around her, Logan pulled her in and kissed her fully and lovingly, with all the want and need that he felt whenever she was near him. Lost in her for an instant, he then remember why he'd come out here in the first place. He pulled back from her a little as she loosened her arms from the hold they had had about his neck in order to allow him. "There's a phone call for ya darlin'."  
  
"Who?" She inquired excitedly for she already had a fair idea that it was Catherine. Logan said nothing; he only smiled at her, giving her full lips one last peck before taking up her hand in his and leading her out of the greenhouse.  
  
* * *  
  
~ "It's great Auntie 'Ro."~ Catherine enthused from the other end of a crackling phone line, necessitating that she shout every word. ~"Abdul and I are having a wonderful time, we really feel like we're making a difference."~  
  
~ "That's fantastic my child, I'm glad you're both happy. But you know if you need anything, you only have to ask?"~ Ororo was truly glad that her niece had finally found somewhere that she felt she belonged, even if it wasn't here in Westchester, New York as she'd hoped. She sat down in the padded chair that was placed at the side of the hallway phone.  
  
~ "Yeah, Uncle Charlie's donation to improve the orphanage has done wonders. Abdul and I are really enjoying working here; we've been able to take in so many more street kids."~ The absolute joy in Catherine's voice was enough to convince Ororo that her niece's decision to go back to Cairo after a month's recuperation at the Institute had been the right way to go. In her own way, going back to help the more unfortunate children of that city, which both she and Abdul had been, was just as momentous a decision as being an X-Man, a position that she had been offered before her departure. It had saddened Ororo at first that she'd wanted to return to Egypt, but it was times like now that she realised that it was for the best after all. Catherine was happy with her life now and that was all that mattered, maybe she'd come to the Mansion later on in her life, but for now she needed to do this.  
  
~ "Logan and I hope to come and see you soon, we---."~ The receiver crackled with bad static.  
  
~ "What? I'm sorry, I can't hear you properly---it's a very bad line!" ~ The receiver crackled again horrendously.  
  
~ "I said, Logan and I will try to make it over there to see you soon!" ~ She replied much louder.  
  
~ "That would be great auntie 'Ro, it will be good to get to know Logan better." ~ During her recuperation, Catherine hadn't had much opportunity to get to know Logan, though she had grown close to Charles who had taught her how to deal with her abilities more extensively. ~ "I'd better go now, this call is costing me a fortune!"~  
  
~ "O.K my dear, I'll phone you soon. Take care in the mean time. And like I said, if you need anything at all, you only have to ask."~  
  
~ "I know, and thank-you." ~ There was a slight nervous pause. ~ "'Love you."~  
  
Ororo smiled, feeling the connection that had grown between them in the relatively short time in which they'd found each other. ~ "I love you too."~  
  
~ "Bye."~  
  
~ "Goodbye."~ The fuzzy noise from the other end of the line continued on its own for a second before the high pitched tone of a disconnection replaced it. Ororo hung up the receiver, her happiness tinged with a slight despondency as it always was when their phone conversations ended, phone conversations that occurred on an almost daily basis. But Logan was always on hand to sate her sadness.  
  
"Hey darlin', you O.K?" He asked as she stood from the chair and he took her into an embrace, kissing her forehead.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." She snuggled her head into his chest as she tightened her arms about his waist. "I miss her, that's all. I just wish she'd agreed to stay...at least for a little while longer."  
  
"Hey sweetheart, we'll see her soon." Leaning in, Logan took Ororo's lips with his. Sweet as honey as always...  
  
"Yes," She sighed along with an over exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. "It just doesn't make it any easier, you know?" She kissed him back before settling her head back against his chest, where it had been a second ago.  
  
"Yep, I can see that babe." In fact, Logan knew only too well how it feels to be parted from a loved one. But the pain, he now could testify, was a worthy price for the love one received at all other times. Letting go and willing to sacrifice was an odd thing...but strangely rewarding none-the- less. It was something the X-Men had to learn to live with. "But just think about everythin' else you got?"  
  
Still with her head leant against his broad chest, Ororo tilted her face upwards so that she could look at Logan as he looked down at her, with the most tender look on his usually hard face. She could see his point. Sure, Catherine wasn't here right now but at least she was still alive, at the end of the day; that was all that really mattered.  
  
Think about everything else you got? Ororo Munroe had done nothing but for weeks and she wasn't fool enough to not appreciate that she was probably one of the luckiest people alive. "I've got Jean and Scott, Bobby and Marie and Charles, but most importantly," she smiled up at Logan, her face a positive beckon of serenity, glowing with a light more befitting a cherub of the Sistine Chapel, "I've got you."  
  
"Damn straight!" Logan chuckled affectionately, "'An you'd better believe ya always will!" And Storm had absolutely no doubt that that was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth...  
  
~The End~ 


End file.
